


Broken

by phantisma



Series: Broken [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Confined/Caged, M/M, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-23
Updated: 2007-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:28:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 50
Words: 179,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finds Dean, and buys him back from a man who specializes in selling slaves...and that is just the beginning of a journey that will lead all of them into a dark hell, from which no one emerges unscathed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anything

**Author's Note:**

> This is dark, angsty, psychological stuff. It involves rape and torture, and a violence even darker that most Supernatural stuff. There is evil here that has nothing to do with the supernatural...and there are consequences. The verse got it's name because there isn't a single character involved that doesn't get broken at least a little, and the three Winchesters? Shattered. It's rated NC-17 because even when there isn't sex or violence there is the memory of sex and violence as well as it's aftermath.

It had been nearly a year since Dean had disappeared. Six months since their father had finally called Sam to tell him. And now, Sam was finally close to finding him.

Finally. He didn’t want to think about where he was, except that he had to maintain his cover…and to do that he had to be painfully aware. He hadn’t seen his father since that night when they’d met near Stanford and John had told him what had happened.

Dean was gone. Their father couldn’t find him. Sam had been furious that it had taken him so long to call, that Dean could be gone for so long and the old man didn’t feel it important enough to tell him.

The trail had been cold. Sam had to pull in a lot of favors and make a lot of unsavory deals to get this far…and it had taken him weeks to pull together the money he would need and establish a convincing cover. Now, as the limo pulled up to an unassuming warehouse, his heart fluttered. He wasn’t sure he could pull the whole thing off.

He thumbed open the window to the driver. “I don’t know how long I’ll be, but be ready to roll when I come out that door.”

The driver nodded understanding and Sam closed the window, then opened his door. He felt like he was out of his league, even in the power suit and $300 shoes. He used the cane to leverage himself out of the car, trusting the blade he knew was secreted inside. He couldn’t carry a gun, not into a place like this, and considering the clientele and merchandise, it likely wouldn’t do him a lot of good anyway. He shifted his grip on the briefcase and exhaled slowly before heading to the door.

At the door, a large man eyed him up and down. “Good evening. I’m here to see Mr. Gorlian.”

“Name?”

“Mr. Samuel Silvers.”

The man grunted, and placed a call on a cell phone that seemed entirely too small in his meaty hands. “Mr. Gorlian is on his way up.”

Sam only had to wait for a minute, and the door was opening, a tall, thin man smiling like a used car salesman and holding out his hand to Sam. “Mr. Silvers…a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Ms. Blackwater recommended you most highly.”

Sam smiled and shook his hand. “She may have over exaggerated a little. I’m glad, however, that you are willing to show me your wares. I’ve been in the market for a while and not finding what I’m looking for.”

Gorlian held the door for him and ushered Sam into a warehouse lined with crates and pallets filled with boxes. “I’m sure we can help you find the perfect specimen. We’ll start with showing you what we have here, and if we don’t have it, you can provide me with specifications, and I will find one for you…no extra charge.”

Sam’s blood ran cold, but he smiled and followed as he was through the warehouse to a freight elevator. “Of course, we’ll have to pass through security…and check your financing…but I’m positive we can do business, Mr. Silvers.”

As they stepped off the elevator, they were greeted by four big guys. Two of them frisked Sam, then passed him through a metal detector. The cane was swept by an x-ray, but the extra money he’d paid was worth it. The x-ray showed nothing more than your average cane, such as any gentleman with a slight limp might carry. The briefcase, likewise, showed only money.

That done Gorlian escorted him into an office. “Ms. Blackwater said the average price was $50,000. Seeing as I am looking for something…extra-ordinary, I brought twice that.” Sam set the briefcase down and turned it for Gorlian’s examination.

The grin that spread over his face was predatory and he rubbed his hands together before closing the briefcase and handing it back to Sam. “Yes, yes. Very good. Perhaps if you give me some idea what your…preferences are for…I can arrange for you to see our best.”

Sam took a deep breath. His stomach twisted in knots. “Human. I don’t want any of those half-breeds or anything. Fully human. Strong, pretty.” He hoped his anguish didn’t show on his face. “I’m told you only sell them fully broken.”

Gorlian nodded. “Indeed. We find our clients are generally happier with one who has been broken and trained.”

“Pity, I rather enjoy doing that myself.” Sam swallowed and tried not to think about it…about what he would find when Gorlian finally took him out there…where humans and demons and all manner of creatures in between were sold as slaves to the rich and powerful.

“Perhaps then we should start with those most recently released for sale…still a little green, as it were. I have three that might suit you. All beautiful, all strong…did you have a gender preference?” Gorlian stood and pushed a button under his desk. The wall behind him slid open and he gestured for Sam to proceed him.

“Male, definitely.” Sam said, though his voice caught just a little as he eyed the line of cages. Those nearest him held two or three…though what species they were wasn’t immediately clear.

Gorlian nodded and led him down a long aisle lined with cages. The slaves inside them were all naked, all fell to their knees as they walked past. Sam’s stomach churned. He almost hoped he was wrong and that he wouldn’t find Dean here. Gorlian turned a corner. There was a couple looking over a female human, discussing her qualities with another man like Gorlian. “This is their third. The last two…well, Mr. Harris is hard on his slaves.”

Sam shivered and hoped his host didn’t notice. He didn’t want to think about that. Right now he wanted to find Dean and get them both to safety. They could worry about shutting Gorlian down after that.

“Ah, here we are.” Gorlian stopped them beside a series of smaller cages. “We like to keep the new ones a little more confined, helps reinforce the training.”

Sam didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see his brother like that. But he had to maintain his cover, or they would both be dead…or worse. He stepped up to the door of the first cage. The slave inside was on his knees, head bowed, his hands behind his back. “This one is a natural submissive, trained in less than three months. His mouth is, I am happy to tell you, heavenly.”

“I want to see his face.”

“Look up boy.”

Painfully pretty, Sam could see that as he looked up, piercing blue eyes and lips that looked like they were made for pouting. But it wasn’t Dean. Sam shook his head. “Show me the next.”

“Yes, yes…over here.” Gorlian turned Sam to a cage behind them. A young black man knelt inside the cage. “This one was caught stealing the wrong car. Took us almost 2 months just to break him, but now…he’s a talented young slave. Cooks too.”

“No.” Sam was beginning to worry. If Dean wasn’t here…Sam had no where else to look.

“Okay…I saved this one for last. He was difficult. He’s pretty, but he’s obviously seen some hard times in his life. I say the scars give him character.”

Sam stopped breathing. Even with the head bowed, he knew.

“He was a hunter, I’m told. Killed demons and such. Took forever to break him…but the training went well, once we did.” Gorlian was watching him and Sam tried to marshal his expression.

“Show me.”

“Look up, boy.”

The head came up slowly, his eyes rising only to about Sam’s chest. Sam’s whole body constricted. _Dean_. If he recognized his brother, Dean gave no indication.

“Breathtaking, isn’t he? And those lips? Let me tell you…made to give a man pleasure.

Sam wanted to hit him, kill him, grab his brother and run…but they wouldn’t make it very far. “Let me see all of him.” Sam said softly, and Gorlian nodded, opening the cage…the unlocked cage. Sam stared for a moment, uncomprehending that Dean would kneel there, in an unlocked cage and wait for someone to come along and buy him like some cow.

Gorlian clipped a leash onto the collar around Dean’s neck and tugged. Dean bowed his head again and moved out of the cage. “Stand.”

Sam wanted to look away as his brother rose to standing, naked and vulnerable before him. He knew he was very close to losing everything. He had to pull it together. “Yes. Yes…this is exactly what I am looking for, Mr. Gorlian.” Sam stepped closer, looking down at Dean, making show of examining him.

Gorlian was beaming. “Most excellent, sir, most excellent.”

Sam breathed out, against Dean’s skin. His body trembled. Now was not the time for the desire starting to creep into him. Not like this. Not like this. “How much?”

He wouldn’t look at Dean as Gorlian consulted some paperwork. “Yes,…his costs are a little higher…due to the cost of acquisition. $85,000.”

“Done.” Sam flicked his eyes up to meet Gorlian’s. “I want him dressed.”

“Let’s go back to my office and handle the money. I’ll have one of the handlers bring him up when he’s ready.

Sam didn’t want to let him out of his sight, but knew it would be suspicious to insist, so he nodded. Ten minutes later, he was shaking Gorlian’s hand and being handed the end of Dean’s leash.

Dean’s eyes never lifted off the floor as they moved to the elevator and through the warehouse and out into the late afternoon sun. The limo was waiting and Sam wasted no time getting in. As soon as the door was closed behind Dean, Sam pressed the intercom button. “Drive.”

He didn’t breathe until there were a number of miles between them and the slave market and when he did it took everything he had not to cry in relief. “Dean, man…I thought…” He looked up at Dean, at the vacant expression and shook his head. He moved to sit across from his brother, putting a hand on his knee. Dean didn’t move, didn’t flinch.

“Dean?”

Dressed in plain white pants and t-shirt, still barefoot and collared, Dean sat with his knees together, his hands in his lap, his eyes trained on his knees. “Look at me.” Sam said softly, making it a command.

Those green eyes lifted, only as far as Sam’s mouth. Sam’s hand went to caress his cheek instinctively. “Dean.” He couldn’t keep the hurt out of his voice, the pain of seeing his big brother reduced to this. “Dean, please tell me you know who I am. Please tell me you’re in there somewhere.

Dean licked his lips and turned slightly away from the caress of Sam’s hand. “You are my owner,” he said softly…no accusation, no hesitation. It was a kick in Sam’s gut.

“God, Dean. It's me. It's Sam.”

Sam exhaled slowly and remembered the driver, the appearances he had to maintain. He opened the window. “The hotel.”

Sam watched Dean the rest of the way to the hotel…not some flea-bitten motel like they normally stayed in. Sam had spent considerable time and money to create the illusion of being a heavily moneyed player, and the right home base was important. He had no illusions that the service that had arranged this driver for this exchange was still watching. They had to get into the room, get changed and high tail it the hell out of town.

Everything would be fine once they were gone. Everything would be fine.

As they pulled up to the hotel, Sam snapped the leash off. “Follow me, and keep quiet. I’ll explain everything.”

Except how do you explain buying your brother from a slave trader who peddled hunters and demons as sex slaves and assassins? Sam didn’t look around as he led them into the hotel, to the private elevator that went up to the suites that cost more than he had ever spent on rent in a year.

They were met by a servant who dipped in a semi-formal curtsey as Sam handed her his key card. “Your dinner is on the table, Mr. Silvers and the chambers for your guest prepared. Will you require anything else?”

Sam smiled for her. “Not tonight, Shelly, thank you. Please see that my…guest and I are not disturbed.”

“Very good sir.”

When the door was closed Sam ran a hand over his face and sighed explosively. “I need to call Dad.” He moved further into the room, shedding his suit coat and dropping it on the couch before loosening his tie, which he dropped beside it. He toed off his shoes as he reached in his pocket for his cell. “Hey, Dad…it’s Sam. I found him.” Sam moved on into the bedroom, unbuttoning his pants and dropping them before reaching for the jeans he’d left on the bed before he left. “No…he’s…I’ve got him. He’s…not himself. I don’t know. No. We can’t stay here long, so we’ll be moving out just as soon as I can get us together.”

He turned to see Dean picking up his pants, folding them. “Dean…stop. It’s okay.” Sam sighed when Dean did just stop, holding the folded pants in his hands. “Look, Dad. I just wanted you to know. I’ll call you when we’re…someplace more safe.”

“Dean, put the pants on the bed.” Dean followed the command and then stood, waiting. “I…don’t know what to do here, Dean.”

“Am I displeasing?” Dean asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“God…no…” Sam groaned and crossed to his side, wrapping his arms around Dean. “No…Dean…I’m so…relieved…I’ve been looking for you…I’m so sorry. This is my fault…If I’d been there…if I…”

Sam released him and dropped onto the bed, the jeans hanging forgotten in his hands. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through…the thought of it makes me sick…” He blinked past the tears.

“You are unhappy.” Dean knelt beside him.

“No…no…I’m very happy.” Sam found himself petting Dean’s head, through hair longer than it generally was. “I found you…and you’re with me, that makes me happy.”

“Then I am happy as well.” Dean laid his head on Sam’s thigh and Sam shuddered.

Fuck. That shouldn’t be as arousing as it was. He shouldn’t want Dean like this. It had been years since they’d…since Sam left and ended the messed up thing between them…and Dean had always been the one in charge then, even if Sam had been the one to start the whole mess. He was staring at Dean’s lips, but if Dean was self conscious of it, he didn’t show it.

Sam was afraid to move, afraid that somehow Dean would be aware of his arousal and hate him. He rubbed his hand through his brother’s hair and closed his eyes, trying to tell himself that now that he had Dean it would be okay.

He was so caught up in his self-convincing that at first he didn’t notice Dean’s hand on his thigh, caressing up…didn’t recognize the turning of his head…not until he felt the touch of his lips against his thigh, where his boxers ended. “Dean…please…”

His hand already had Sam’s hard cock out of his boxers and his eyes registered confusion as he looked up, seeking permission. “Do you not want this?”

Sam’s eyes rolled closed. “God…I do…but Dean…” All thought left his head though when Dean’s mouth closed over his cock, heat flushing through him as those lips wrapped around him and sucked.

“Fuck.” Sam huffed and tried to find the strength to stop him, but damn! Dean had always been good at this…but somehow…this was hotter…deeper…Dean’s tongue knew just where to slide and how much pressure…his throat opened and he slid down Sam’s cock, swallowing as the tip struck the back of his throat and just like that Sam was coming, hard.

Dean pulled back just far enough to catch it all in his mouth and swallow, licking Sam clean and sitting back on his knees. Sam shook as he tried to catch his breath and sat up. He was crying now. Crying and shaking and he didn’t begin to know what to do.

“We…we need to change…and get moving. Do you understand, Dean?” Sam reached for the jeans and stuck his feet into them. “There are clothes for you in that bag, on the chair. Put them on.”

He hated that he sounded like that…that he was reduced to treating Dean like he actually was a slave. But he had to get them out of there and on the road before the “money” he’d paid for his brother returned to it’s natural state. Somehow he didn’t think Gorlian was going to let them waltz away when his $85,000 turned out to be a bunch of newsprint under a glamour.

He gathered the few things in the suite that were actually his, and packed up the food on the table. No sense letting it go to waste. When he was done, he turned to find Dean dressed in clothes nearly a size too big for him, his feet still bare. It would have to do. “Okay, here’s the thing, Dean. We’re sneaking out of here, so I need you to stick close and follow me quietly, okay? We’ll find us someplace to stay tonight…someplace not here…where Gorlian and his friends can’t find us.”

Shelly wasn’t at her post outside the elevators, which meant she was off tending to one of the other high rollers on the floor. Sam took Dean’s hand, half to guide him, half for comfort and drew him along to the elevator. They rode it down two floors, then got off and made for the stairs. Down fifteen flights…and out into the early hours of the night.

“Okay, tell me you remember the car, at least.” Sam said as he opened the passenger side door of the Impala. He sighed when no recognition showed in Dean’s face. “Just get in.”

The ride was silent, Sam brooding over the Dean…Dean silently sitting beside him, unmoving.

Close to midnight, Sam pulled them over, into a motel. “Wait here, I’ll get us a room.” Of course, Dean didn’t move. Sam almost wished he would. Some spark of the Dean he knew, some sign he was still there. Okay, one thing at a time. He got them into the room, settled, salted the doors and windows, signed a sigil into the door. It wouldn’t keep Gorlian from getting in, but it would make it more difficult. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself comfortable.”

He closed the bathroom door behind him, closed it and relished the absence of his brother…or rather, the shell of his brother. Because that wasn’t Dean. That…that was…a slave, something programmed to do only what it was told, to obey…of course, to some degree Dean had always been that.

Sam stopped at that thought. His father demanded little else. Obedience, blind and unquestioning. It was easy enough to blame him for this already. Dean had vanished because he wasn’t watching…because he was too obsessed with his own personal demon…and Dean had been broken, raped, beaten and ultimately programmed to be an obedient fucking toy for anyone able to pay the price to own him.

Which Sam had done. In a manner of speaking. Sam stepped in under the less then spectacular stream of water, trying to wash away the feeling of filth that had taken him when he’d come with Dean on his knees. It wasn’t that they’d never done that…or that old familiar guilt that came with the _wrong_ of wanting that with his brother.

It was the way Dean looked at him, as if this was all he was meant to be…all he knew how to be. It was the fact that Dean didn’t even know him, that Dean had knelt there in that cage and never tried to escape…and Sam didn’t even begin to understand that.

Finally, when the water began to run tepid and he couldn’t take the guilt any more, Sam stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around himself and opening the bathroom door. He stopped three steps out.

Dean knelt on the nearest bed, naked.

“Dean?”

His head was bowed, his eyes closed. He didn’t move. “I prepared myself for you.”

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Dean, you…” He stepped closer. Dean was visibly shaking. “You don’t need to do…”

He didn’t look up, only bent forward in offering. “I need to please my master.”

In the dim light of the motel room, Sam could see that Dean had prepped himself, his ass was slightly opened and glistened with lube. “My god, Dean.”

He let one hand slide down Dean’s back, stopping well before that opening. “You are…beautiful.”

Sam licked his lips. He hadn’t meant to say that…no matter how true it was. Here Dean was offering himself up like some whore and it was so beautiful that Sam ached. Sam moved around to sit in front of Dean, pushing up so that he was able to see his face. “You please me, just being here with me Dean. You don’t need to do anything to make me happy.”

There was distress in the green eyes and those perfect lips were slightly swollen as though he’d been biting at them. Sam kissed him…and those lips just opened, accepting. “Dean. Please.” Sam’s hands cupped Dean’s face, then slid down, closing on the collar. Maybe if he took it off Dean could…maybe…He shook his head.

“Here, let’s get this thing off.” Dean bowed his head forward as Sam worked the buckle, and he whimpered as it came loose and fell away. “Dean?”

Sam rubbed the chaffed place on the back of his neck lightly, then tilted his head upward with a finger under Dean’s chin. “Dean?”

There was something going on in Dean’s head, he could see it in his eyes. Dean licked his lips, blinked and dropped his gaze. One hand touched the collar in Sam’s hand, then Sam’s hand. He turned it over, running a finger over Sam’s, up to the wrist and the scar there from a few years back.

“Sam?” It was scarcely more than a whisper, less than an admission…a breath and a shudder.

“Dean?” Sam tried to get him to look at him, but Dean was shaking even more now, his body rigid. Sam shifted so that he could put an arm around him, trying to will warmth into him. “It’s okay, Dean. I’m here now…you’re safe…”

Slowly, he cajoled Dean down onto his side, with soft touches and murmured words of reassurance. At some point the shaking stopped. Sam managed to move so that he was behind Dean, curled around him, the collar dropped and forgotten on the floor. He let sleep coax him out of the horror of the day, whispering his brother’s name in his ear.

 

Sam woke with a start, like he was forgetting something…something important. He was alone in the bed. He sat up, looking around him frantically for Dean. He found him in the darkest corner of the room, huddling against the wall, the collar in his hands.

“Dean?” Sam got up, painfully aware of his morning erection, and crossed the room to squat beside him. “Are you okay?”

Dean shook his head.

“What’s wrong?”

He held the collar between them. “You don’t want me.”

“No…no Dean…I do want you…I went through hell to find you.”

Dean’s eyes met his, and for the first time Sam thought he saw a remnant of his brother in them. “You took it off.”

Sam’s eyes caught on the collar, then went back to his. “Yes, I took it off Dean. You…don’t…I want you…but not like that.”

He looked confused. “Sam?”

Sam nodded, his hand closing over Dean’s. “Yes, Dean. It’s Sam.” He kissed him then, fervently. “God I’ve missed you Dean.”

Dean shook his head. “Hard to remember.”

“It’s okay…you’re going to be okay…I promise. I’m not ever leaving you again.”

“You bought me.” He was already slipping away again, Sam could tell.

Sam closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, I did.”

“And you want me…but you took the collar off…”

“I want you Dean, not a collar.” He kissed Dean then, to stop the words, to stop the surge of emotion. One hand slid behind Dean’s neck, pulling him closer, out of the corner. It seemed like a small eternity, then Dean was kissing him back, his tongue tentatively touching Sam’s lips, his hands rising up to touch Sam’s arms. Sam flushed with relief as he pulled back and looked into the face of his brother.

“I like the collar.” Dean said, and his words stopped Sam dead. His eyes met Sam’s, stormy green and determined. “Please let me wear it for you. Let me please you.”

Sam pulled away, moving to sit on the bed. Dean moved to his knees. “I’m not using you Dean. You don’t even know what you’re saying, you don’t even know who you are.

Dean’s head bowed. “I do. I want…” His eyes closed and when they opened Sam half imagined he saw real recognition in them. “I want this…with you. I pretended it was you…I dreamed of you. Every time they used me…every time I obeyed…it was for you…my master, my Sam…”

Sam groaned as Dean’s words cut into him, aroused him and repulsed him all at the same time. “I knew you would find me. I waited for you.”

“Dean…god…stop…please. I can’t…I don’t know how to… be that man.”

“Just let me…Just…please… I need you…want to feel you inside me…I can be good.” Dean had moved out of his corner and was kneeling beside him, his hands on Sam’s knees. “Please,…want to be…for you…only you…want you to touch me…own me…”

His words made every thing Sam knew fade away, as his blood pooled heavily in his already hard and leaking dick. “Dean…god…Dean…” He was kissing Sam’s thighs now and Sam’s legs parted of their own accord, giving him more room. Dean got as far as Sam’s cock and looked up, standing slowly, bringing Sam with him.

Once Sam was on his feet, Dean climbed onto the bed, kneeling, arranging himself with his ass up in offering. Sam hesitated, then felt Dean’s hand guiding him and it was almost as if he couldn’t help himself.

They groaned almost in unison as his cock breached the outer ring and Sam froze…but Dean just pushed back until Sam was fully inside him. “Please…want it…please…”

Dean begging was more than Sam could handle, and he nodded even through the tears. “Yeah…baby…it’s okay…I’m here.” He knew he was going to come fast…and maybe it was better that way. He moved his hips and Dean bucked under him. “Fuck…Dean…”

He collapsed forward as he came, riding Dean down to the mattress before rolling to the side and pulling Dean with him…his softening cock still buried in his brother. “I’ve missed you so much.” He kissed the back of Dean’s neck. “I’m never letting you go again, Dean. Never.”

“Thank you.”

“Shhh…sleep Dean. I’ll be right here.” And if Sam thought _Mine_ and _forever_ as he drifted to sleep, it couldn’t be helped…anything to make his brother safe, anything to let him know he was loved and wanted…anything for his brother…


	2. Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has bought his brother back from slavers who kidnapped him, and is doing what he can to break the programming and remind Dean that he's more than the nothing they trained him to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slave!Dean, rimming, references (still vague at this point) to torture and rape...not exactly pretty stuff here.

“Dean?” 

He hadn’t been gone but an hour, picking up clothes that would fit Dean and checking to make sure they hadn’t been followed. There wasn’t much of anywhere Dean could hide here in this tiny motel room. Sam let his eyes adjust to the gloom, then found him, huddled in the corner. 

“Hey, I got you some clothes.” Sam put the packages on the bed and crossed to Dean. He was naked again, the collar around his neck, his head bent forward on his knees. “Dean?”

Sam shook his head. It had been three days since he’d found his brother and _bought_ him from a slave market operating out of a warehouse in downtown Rochester, NY. Aside from that moment of what Sam had thought was recognition, that moment of naked need in Dean's voice and Sam’s subsequent weakness, Dean had shown no signs of the brother he once knew.

They were in Virginia now, and Sam was at a loss for how to help him. 

Dean whimpered when Sam touched him. When he got like this Sam had little choice but to issue commands in order to get any response out of him. “Tell me what’s wrong Dean.”

Dean’s face lifted and his eyes showed fear. “If I am displeasing, you will return me…Yet, you will not allow me to please you. I do not understand.”

Sam sighed. “I am not ever returning you to Gorlian, Dean. Never. You’re mine…understand?”

There was relief on his face then. “I am well trained. I want to serve you.”

Sam nodded. “I know.” He caressed Dean’s head and his chest tightened when Dean leaned into it. “I know you do, Dean. I’m…not used to it…we both have some adjustments to make.”

“I learn quickly. Please teach me what pleases you.”

Sam wanted to shut himself up in the bathroom again and cry…until an idea occurred to him. “Dean, maybe we can make a deal. Sit on the bed with me.”

Sam took his hand and drew him to the side of the bed. He brushed a hand through Dean’s hair and smiled softly. “I have questions I’d like to ask you. In return, I’ll show you what pleases me. That way, I learn what happened to you, and you learn how to make me happy.” 

Dean nodded. “I am yours to command.”

Sam licked his lips. It wasn’t what he wanted, but if he could get Dean thinking about what had happened, maybe he’d remember where he came from. “I want you to answer me as honestly as you can, Dean.” Sam said, trying to catch his eyes. “What is the earliest memory you have?”

Dean shook his head and dropped his gaze. “I do not understand.”

“Your first memory.” Sam watched him struggle, then squeezed his hand. “Close your eyes and take a deep breath. You remember the market where I found you.”

Dean nodded. “Good. Tell me what came before that.”

“We came in a truck.”

“Good. And before that?”

Dean shifted and something fleeting passed over his face. “Training.”

Sam held his breath. “Before that?”

Dean showed signs of distress. Sam squeezed his hand. “Stay with me Dean…you’re safe…you’re here with me…and I love you…and you’re never going back. Can you tell me?”

Dean licked his lips and took a deep breath. “It was dark…and there was…it hurt.” He was breathing heavy and he was shaking his head. “It hurt…I learned there…what I was.”

Sam didn’t want to know, and couldn’t help himself from asking. “What did you learn, Dean? What did they teach you?”

“I am nothing…no one…thrown away.”

Sam’s entire being cracked in half and he gathered Dean to him, pressing Dean’s head to his chest. “My god Dean…I’m so sorry…so…sorry…I should have…” He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. “You are not nothing…you hear me? You’re…god, you’re my Dean…I walked into hell to find you, baby.”

“I was nothing…until you bought me. Now I am yours.” Dean said softly, his words ruffling the cotton of Sam’s shirt. He sat up, his face earnest as he looked at Sam. “What can I do now to make you happy?”

Sam let out a long breath and nodded. “When we were younger, you used to help me sleep.” He laid back, pulling Dean with him. “You used your finger and your lips to caress my face.” He put one finger to Dean’s forehead, tracing lightly over the skin and down the side. “It always made me feel safe and wanted…happy.”

Dean nodded, his green eyes going soft as he leveraged himself up on one elbow and leaned to mimic Sam’s movement with his own finger over Sam’s brow. Feather light, he traced the lines of Sam’s face and Sam closed his eyes. It was almost like stepping back in time. He felt his racing heart calm under the soothing touch.

When Dean added soft kisses, pressing against his closed eyes and over cheekbones, Sam moaned softly. “Lay with me,” he whispered, pulling Dean down to lay with his head on his shoulder. Lost in the illusion, Sam let himself drift off, dreaming about a world where he had never left Dean.

 

Each night when they stopped, Sam asked questions, and taught Dean something he should already know…doing his best to avoid anything that was actual sex. He couldn’t…shouldn’t take advantage of his brother that way. He managed to get him to dress during the day, though he still refused to wear shoes and Sam convinced him to only wear the collar when they were alone.

He wasn’t sure where they were going. He’d left Stanford in the middle of a semester, without word, just gone. Getting back in would be difficult at best. A week, two…aimlessly driving. They were somewhere outside of Tulsa when his phone rang. “Shit, it’s Dad.” He tried to talk to Dean as if he was…well, Dean…was much as he could, hoping it would jog his memory. Sam put the phone to his ear. “Yeah.”

He kept his eyes on the road and listened while his father ranted, and when he took a breath, Sam just said, “Stop.” When his father didn’t start up again, Sam sighed. “He’s in no shape to see you right now. Trust me.”

He wasn’t going to keep their father from finding them, not if he was determined, despite the fact that they were living as far off the grid as possible. Gorlian and his squad of “recruiters” wouldn’t have given up on finding them yet. Sam looked aside at Dean. “He barely knows who he is Dad, he’s…” Sam sighed…then reminded himself that his father had gotten Dean into this. “He’s been brainwashed or something. Tortured, beaten. No…Fine. Where are you?” Sam estimated the distance between them and nodded, though his father wouldn’t see him and Dean wouldn’t care. “We’re almost to Tulsa. Call me when you get into town.”

It gave him two days, more or less. Two days to figure out how to tell John Winchester what had happened to his son…or break through the programming that was keeping his brother from him. 

There was something of a routine that developed, and Sam fell into it as though it were normal. He’d go in and get them a room. Dean pulled their bags out of the car. Sam set up protection, Dean arranged their things in some pattern that pleased him. Sam went in to shower, Dean set out whatever food they had and stripped, putting on the collar and waiting on his knees by the bed for Sam to come out of the bathroom.

No matter how hard he tried, Sam couldn’t convince Dean not to do those things, and it was easier than watching him quiver and retreat into the corner. Sam did insist Dean eat with him , instead of waiting until he was done, though Dean never looked comfortable sitting in that chair. In fact, he tended to avoid furniture other than the bed, just like he avoided shoes.

Sam tried to carry on as if nothing were wrong, though his usual brotherly banter was tempered by his concern. “Dad’s coming to see you.” No reaction. “Do you want to see Dad?”

Dean turned vacant eyes to Sam. “Dad?” There was something…then Dean dropped his eyes to his half full paper plate. “He traded me away. Didn’t want me.”

His voice was so soft, Sam wasn’t sure he heard him. “You remember Dad, Dean?”

Dean shook his head. “They told me…wasn’t wanted, no one wanted me…gave me away…traded me for two turnips…” Dean’s eyes rose to meet Sam’s. “But you wanted me. You came for me.”

Sam smiled gently and touched Dean’s hand. “Yes, I did. Finish your dinner.”

Dean returned his attention to eating dutifully and Sam shook his head in frustration. Sam had his father’s version of what had happened; the end of a tiring hunt, Dean went to a bar while his father went to bed, Dean never came back to the motel. It wasn’t much, and whoever had done the programming had done a good job. Every night he came closer to getting Dean to remember…and every morning it was as though nothing had changed. 

He was tired. What little sleep he was getting was filled with nightmares about Dean and losing him. Most of the night he laid awake, holding on to his brother and he’d drift off toward morning, waking when Dean slid from the bed to prepare himself for the day.

Sam left Dean eating and stretched out on the bed, pillowing his head on his arms. He had to find something new, something to trigger Dean. There was a tender hand on his lower back and Sam opened his eyes to find Dean kneeling beside the bed. “May I please you?”

Dean’s hand was already moving around his back, warm and tender and Sam nodded, closed his eyes as Dean’s considerable attention turned to massaging way the stress and pain that had built up in his back. Sam drifted as Dean kneaded muscles and slid across skin, instinctively finding the places where the muscles bunched from the car ride and crappy motel beds. At the first touch of tongue, Sam didn’t even notice the change, not until hands and tongue swept lower, over the rounds of his ass…not until that tongue moved through his crack and nuzzled against his hole.

“Dean—“

“I am told it is pleasing.” Dean said, gently pushing him back to the mattress. “I wish to.”

It was as close to expressing desire as Dean came these days and Sam gave in…swallowed his guilt as that tongue sent electric shocks through him. Dean laved over and around repeatedly before pushing in. Sam started a little, then relaxed. It had been a long time since he’d had anyone inside him…but Dean’s tongue was hot and wet as it wiggled in deeper and Sam found himself hard in seconds.

Fingers parted his ass cheeks, making room for Dean to work his face closer, his tongue deeper. Sam squirmed under him as he added a finger to reach Sam’s prostrate, stroking it until Sam was pushing his ass up into Dean’s face and cursing as he came.

Dean returned to kneeling beside the bed. Sam looked down at him. Dean was half hard, something he hadn’t seen since he’d found him…as if they trained him to never feel arousal. It gave him an idea. “Come to bed.” 

Dean nodded and climbed into bed beside him and Sam sat up, reaching for his brother’s cock. “I want you to get hard for me Dean. I want to please you. I want to make you come.”

“It is forbidden.” Dean pulled away, fear on his face. 

Sam smiled gently and kept his hand around Dean’s cock. “Not anymore. You belong to me now, Dean. My rules are the only ones that matter.” He pulled up his cock slowly, feeling it start to respond. “That’s it…I want it…I want you to come for me.”

Dean still looked afraid, but his hands were fisting in the sheets and his cock twitched in Sam’s hand. Sam moved so he could slide his tongue over the head, swirling it around over the slit the way he knew Dean liked it. Dean’s breathing changed pace and Sam took it as a sign, moving his hand to swallow down and suck his way back up. “Come on Dean…come for me.”

Dean made a strangled sort of cry, his hips heaving up and come shooting out of him hard and long, up in an arch to land against the wall with a splat. Sam chuckled while Dean gasped air into his lungs. “That’s my good boy.” Sam said, swiveling around to lay down and pull Dean to him. “Very good, Dean. I am very happy.”

It was early, probably too early to sleep, but Sam reached for the light, plunging the room into darkness. “I remember I was alone.” Dean said suddenly, his hand on Sam’s chest.

“What?”

“You asked for my earliest memory. I was alone. It was dark. Darker than this. I hurt all over. That is the first thing I remember.”

“I’m sorry you were alone, Dean.” Sam caressed the hand Dean had laid on his chest. “I promise you, you’ll never be alone again.”

“May I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Is…Dean…is that my name?”

Sam bit off the anguish and nodded, breathing deep while he tried to find his voice. “Yes, Dean. It is your name, the one our parents gave you.”

Dean nodded against his shoulder. “It sounds…right…but I haven’t heard it in a very long time.”

“Do you remember my name?” Sam asked breathlessly. He hadn’t said it, not since the first time the collar came off. There had been “sir” and “master” once…and Sam had reacted so badly to that, that Dean had refrained from calling him anything since. 

Dean went still and quiet and Sam nodded. “It’s okay. Sam. I’m Sam.”

Dean was still quiet and Sam shifted so he could see his face. “Dean?”

He shook his head and tried to turn away. “Look at me.”

There were tears in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Dean shook his head. “Sam.” It was like he was tasting the name, rolling it around his mouth. “I…remember a boy…he was scared…I called him Sam.”

Sam nodded. ‘Yes, that was me. You held me.”

Dean covered his face, then pulled his hands away again. Sam had already learned that he was trained to never hide his face. “I—I…may I go relieve myself?”

Sam didn’t want to let him go…not with a memory surfacing like that, but Dean was fragile so he nodded. Let him have a moment to deal with the emotion. It was a start.

 

“Dean, Dad will be here any minute. I need for you to put your clothes on.” Sam had awakened to his cell phone ringing and his father’s gruff voice indicating he was pulling in to Tulsa. Dean had come from his meticulous morning regimen in the bathroom. Sam wasn’t sure what all he did in there, but he was always done and waiting for Sam when he woke up. “Did you hear me Dean? Get dressed.” 

Sam pulled himself out of bed and reached for his jeans. He was already on edge and his father wasn’t even here. By the time Sam had found a clean shirt and pulled it on, Dean was dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, waiting for another order. 

“I’m going to meet him outside, explain things, okay?” Sam said. “You stay put and…eat something. I think we have some food left.” He looked up, eyes falling on the collar. He knew it was something of a security blanket for his brother. He was never comfortable with it off. He softened his voice. “I’d like it if you would take the collar off…okay? I’m not going to make it an order…but it would please me.”

Sam heard the familiar sound of his father’s truck. “I’ll be right outside.”

Sam was waiting with his back to the door when his father approached. “Wait.” Sam held up his hand.

“Let me see him, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Not without knowing what’s going on…or as much of it as I’ve figured out. I’m not going to have you undoing all the work I’ve done so far.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You really don’t have a clue, do you? Tell me Dad, did you do any searching at all? Or were you too busy with your hunt to worry about where your son went?”

John’s eyes flashed with fury. “How dare you—“

“Me? That’s rich Dad. I’m not letting you in there until you understand. Dean didn’t run off or go blow off steam. He was hunted and kidnapped.”

John stopped his forward movement and stared at Sam. “What are you saying?”

“The people who grabbed Dean that night knew him, knew what they were doing. They trailed the two of you for a month before they made their move. They chose Dean…and waited until the two of you were separated.”

“Who?”

Sam dropped his gaze. He hadn’t said it out loud, not really. It made it too real…”Slavers, Dad. Men who specialize in…kidnapping people and things and turning them into slaves.”

“Slaves?” His face was blank, uncomprehending. 

Sam nodded. “Yeah…they…well, I’m not sure entirely, because he doesn’t remember…but they broke him and programmed him.” Sam could tell it still wasn’t sinking in. “They programmed him to be submissive, to…pleasure his owner.”

He could see John begin to understand, saw the face pale. Somehow he couldn’t stop now that he’d started. “They used him, raped him…taught him to kneel in an unlocked cage and wait to be fucked by anyone who would pay the price to use him. He doesn’t even know his own name.” 

John turned, doubled over and retched onto the gravel. Sam wouldn’t begrudge him that. He’d done the same more than once. “I found him at a fucking slave market in New York.”

Sam watched his father try to pull himself together. “How…how did you get him out?”

He tightened his jaw and looked away, the image of the place flaring in his mind. “I used every trick I could. Tapped every contact, every spell I could find. I bought him. It was the only way.”

“You…bought him?”

“I put a glamour on a bunch of newsprint and made it look like $100,000.” Sam sighed and sagged against the door. 

“I’m sorry, Sam. I—I don’t even know what to say.” John shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “We argued…hell, we’d been arguing for days and I’d told him maybe it was time he left too, like you did. I thought…I didn’t think he’d leave the car…but if he was angry enough…”

“You are one arrogant SOB, you know that Dad? Dean would never have left you…even if you told him to.” Sam sighed explosively. “I only agreed to you seeing him because it might jog his memory. If you say or do anything to hurt him—“

“Sam, I’m not going to do anything. I just want to see him.”

Sam nodded and opened the door. Dean wasn’t at the table where he’d left him. His eyes scanned the room. He was in the corner, standing and watching the door. Sam slipped in and went to him, ignoring his father completely for the moment. “It’s okay Dean.”

Dean’s eyes stayed on their father. “You yelled. Go to the corner when there’s yelling.”

Dean had gotten accustomed to explaining behavior Sam apparently didn’t understand. Sam nodded and ran a hand down Dean’s arm. “Yes, there was yelling. I’m sorry.”

“Is that him?” 

Sam took his hand and drew him out of the corner. “Yes Dean, this is our father, John Winchester.” Dean’s breathing was irregular and Sam stopped them well over an arm’s reach away. 

“My god, Dean. Are you…are you okay?”

Dean’s eyes were large and his free hand grabbed at Sam’s. “It’s okay Dean.” Sam encouraged…but Dean’s head started shaking and his eyes closed.

“Nothing.” Dean said, turning now away from John. “Didn’t want me. Sent me away.”

Sam’s eyes snapped up to his father’s. “Out.”

“Sam.”

“Get out.”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Dean went to his knees, assuming the familiar submissive posture Sam had found him in at the market. 

“Now, Dad. Out.”

Sam heard the door close and went to one knee beside Dean. “It’s okay Dean. He’s gone. It’s okay.” He stroked Dean’s face until the tension released a little and he could cajole Dean into looking at him. “You’re with me. I want you. I’ll never send you away.” Dean’s eyes met his. “Dean?”

“Sam.” There was uncertainty mixed with memory and _Dean_ in the green depths, Sam cupped both hands to his face.

“Dean…I—stay with me…okay?”

Dean swallowed and nodded. “Can’t promise.”

“Try?”

Again, he nodded. His hands rose to Sam’s pulling them in to his lips. “I’m so sorry Sam.”

“No, god, no Dean.” Sam kissed his forehead. “Not your fault. None of it. Just…hold on to me. It’s okay.” Sam moved so he was sitting and pulled Dean against him. 

Dean shook, his hands fisting in Sam’s shirt. “I let them…I let them…” He nuzzled into Sam’s neck. “I didn’t know what to do…couldn’t take any more…couldn’t find you in the dark…I was alone…”

Sam rocked him as though he were a child, watching the shadow of their father pace outside the window. “I found you Dean. I found you.” It took a long time for the shaking to pass and when it had, John Winchester no longer moved back in forth in front of their room. 

Sam got them both up off the floor and sat Dean in the chair. He didn’t know what to say or do now. Dean sat dully staring at the floor and Sam was petrified he’d revert to his programming if they didn’t do something to reinforce this. “Can you tell me…what happened, Dean?”

Dean winced, then sighed, his whole body sagging in the chair. “I was drunk. Angry. Don’t remember much after I left the bar.” 

Sam nodded, moving to the window to see where their father had gone. “I remember it was dark…when I woke up. I didn’t even understand why they were hitting me.” 

Sam closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool glass. “You don’t have to, Dean…it’s okay.”

Dean didn’t respond and Sam turned to look. He was huddled in the chair, knees drawn up to his chest. He looked exhausted. “You should sleep.” Sam said. “I’ll talk to Dad.”

He shook his head. “If I sleep…I’ll forget again.” 

Sam took his hands and guided him to the bed. “If you do, I’ll remind you again.” Sam kissed his forehead. “I’ll be here, I promise. Rest.”

He pulled the comforter up over his brother and turned to go find his father. “Sam?”

Dean’s voice stopped him and he turned. “I still belong…to you…don’t I?”

Sam swallowed the lump that lodged in his throat and nodded. “Always, Dean. Always.”


	3. Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean was kidnapped and made into a slave. Sam bought him back. Now Dean is starting to remember who he is, but breaking through the conditioning proves to be difficult.

Dean waited. He woke in the late afternoon alone. He remembered himself...remembered Sam’s kiss…remembered his father’s voice. Sam wasn’t there. He’d promised. Dean remembered. 

He slid from the bed and went to the window. Sam was standing beside the truck. Their father was with him. Dean paced the room before the conditioning took over and he went to the bathroom. 

It was easier…gave him something to do. It had been drilled into him, wake up, prepare. Always the same. It didn’t matter when he woke. He started the shower, making it hot, as hot as it would go. Stripped. Folded the clothes neatly and set them on the back of the toilet. He relieved himself and stepped into the shower. The water stung, scalded. He tilted his head into the stream. It was routine. It was simple. _Wash his hair. Rinse. Scrub his body, toes, feet, legs, stomach and chest, face, hands, arms…genitals, ass_. 

He didn’t think about it, just scoured himself clean, quick efficient, and turned off the water. Each step in the regimen was precise, dictated. His hands didn’t shake anymore as he pulled the comb through his hair and shaved his face. He didn’t have to count the minutes as he brushed his teeth anymore. 

When he was done, he stopped, seeing himself in the mirror. His eyes were hollow, his cheeks thinned. He didn’t look like himself. The door opened and Sam’s voice called him. Dean stepped out of the bathroom. Sam looked relieved. “Dean?”

He nodded, because he didn’t really know how else to respond. 

“Dad’s getting a room. He’s…not going to push to see you.”

“He told me to leave.”

Sam nodded. “I know. He told me.”

“You left me.” It wasn’t really an accusation, though it sounded like one. Dean just wanted it to make sense. “I was alone.” He remembered that…the dark, the loneliness. They left him alone in the dark for days…until hunger and thirst drove him crazy. 

“I did leave you, Dean. I am…sorry…I never should have gone…I should have stayed with you.”

Dean shook his head. “No…you were right. You should leave…I never deserved you.”

Sam groaned and Dean could see the pain in his eyes. “I hurt you.” 

“No…” Sam crossed to him, his hand caressing Dean’s face. “No…you saved me…you held me when I was scared, you loved me when I was a total prick…I needed you Dean, and you were always there.”

“Now look at me. I’m…nothing…”

“Stop saying that. You will never be nothing to me.”

“They told me you were dead.” Dean said into the silence a few minutes later. “Showed me pictures. I cried your name at night. Then you were dead and I stopped…I gave up…everything…let them…”

“Dean.” Sam breathed the name, pulling Dean in close and holding him. Dean didn’t move, just stood there in Sam’s arms. He didn’t know how to respond. Kindness wasn’t in his vocabulary anymore. There was punishment and obedience and silence. 

“Let’s get you dressed.” Sam said when he finally let go. His voice was tender, but somehow that made it worse.

“Slaves don’t get to wear clothes.” Dean said. “Unless the master takes them in public.” His fingers toyed with the leather of the collar, laying where he’d left it the night before on the small table. 

“You aren’t…my slave, Dean. You’re my brother.”

It felt like fire. The words disowning him. Dean shook. He needed to belong. He needed Sam to understand. He picked up the collar and turned to find Sam holding a pair of jeans. He’d earned it once. He would do it again. He crossed to Sam and went to his knees, holding up the collar. “Please. If I…let me try.”

Sam took the leather, but shook his head. “Dean…I don’t understand.”

It was uncomfortable, explaining. Masters were meant to know, to understand. “A slave earns the right to wear the collar. I…was good enough once. I could be again.”

Sam dropped to his knees. There were tears in his eyes. “Dean…I didn’t know.”

Dean lowered his eyes, bowed his head, offering up the back of his neck. “I want to be, Sam. I want to…for you.”

Sam’s fingers under his chin tilted his face up. Dean wasn’t sure what was expected. His kiss was soft and Dean could feel Sam’s tears wet his face. He closed his eyes and opened himself to Sam’s touch, to his tongue. He’d forgotten how sweet Sam’s mouth was…he’d forgotten so much.

He started a little when he felt the touch of the leather. It slithered around his neck and he could feel Sam’s fingers working the buckle. “Always good enough Dean.” Sam whispered. His hands cupped to Dean’s face. “Always.”

Dean blinked back the tears. Not supposed to cry. Not supposed to show emotion without permission. “Yours, Sam?”

Sam sat back a little, his eyes searching Dean’s face. “Yes, Dean. Mine.”

“Always.” 

Sam nodded, brushing away the tears on his face. “Always.”

Dean inhaled deeply. “I’ll wear the clothes, if you want me to.” 

Sam picked up the forgotten denim and handed it to him. “It will be easier to take you to the diner if you’re dressed.”

“Out?”

Sam nodded. “Yes, I think it will do us both some good. You’ll have to wear shoes though.”

Dean felt relief well inside him. Sam didn’t disown him. Didn’t throw him away. He offered a tentative smile. “For you.”

 

There was a lot to remember when in public. _Stay behind and to the left. Don’t walk too fast. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t touch._ He was grateful Sam didn’t ask, didn’t insist on changing anything. It was hard enough without fighting the programming. 

Sam smiled at the waitress as she handed them menus. “Know what you want to drink, Dean?”

He didn’t look up, didn’t pick up the menu. “Water, please.” Sam was looking at him. Dean tried for eye contact, and only got as far as his mouth. “Just water.”

Sam nodded and ordered a coke, and the waitress was gone. “You okay?”

Dean glanced around him. All the open space was terrifying. He nodded tightly. “Its hard.” He tugged at the collar of his jacket that hid the leather collar underneath. “Long time.”

Sam’s hand snaked across the table and squeezed his. “It’s okay. We don’t have to stay.”

Dean shook his head. “No. I’m fine.”

“Okay…how about some food?”

Dean stared at the menu for a long time. “Don’t know…don’t remember.” He could remember Sam skinning his knee when he tripped on his way home from school when he was 9…and he could remember kissing Mary Bonner under the bleachers…but he didn’t know if he liked pot roast, or French fries or apple pie. He couldn’t remember what they tasted like. 

Choice was one of the first things they took away. You ate what was given to you, or you went hungry. He went hungry a lot in the first few weeks. 

“Anything on the menu, Dean.”

He licked his lips. “Can I…May I try the pot roast?”

Sam smiled and nodded. “Pot roast it is. Make it two.”

Dean looked up, not even aware the waitress had come back. He had to pay better attention. Had to be observant. If he wasn’t he would be punished. He tucked his hands under the table and stared at his water. 

It took him a minute to realize Sam was talking to him. “I figure we can go just about anywhere…maybe find a nice cabin someplace. Take some down time.”

“May I…ask something?” Dean asked, still not really looking at Sam.

“Anything Dean.”

“School. You left me for school. I remember. Are you finished?”

“In every way that matters, Dean.” Sam’s hand caressed his cheek. “Okay? I’m not leaving you.”

“Not why I was asking. We could…I mean…if it’s what you want…”

Sam seemed to get what he was driving at. He sighed and moved back so the waitress could put their plates down. “No, it isn’t what I want Dean. Not anymore.” Sam started on his food. After a minute Sam must have realized he wasn’t eating. Sam sighed. “Eat, Dean.”

He hadn’t realized he was waiting. He picked up his fork and tasted each thing on his plate, as if he’d never had any of it before. He decided he didn’t like the carrots, but ate them anyway…ate them first, then the potatoes. The meat he liked the best, so he saved it for last. He ate liked he cleaned himself, quickly, efficiently. _No talking, no looking around. Always pay attention to the task_. 

When he finished, he sat back in the booth, eyes on the empty plate. Sam was still eating, watching him and eating. “Do you want something else, Dean?”

Want? He wasn’t supposed to want anything but to please his owner, his Sam. He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“I’m almost done. We can go back to the motel.”

 

Dean stopped between the Impala and his father’s truck. Sam was nearly to the door of their room before he realized Dean wasn’t right behind him and came back. “Does he know?” Dean asked breathlessly, one hand skimming over the truck’s side.

“Does he know what, Dean?”

“What I am.” Dean shook his head. He tried to force the words out. Words had never been his strong suit. “What happened to me. Does he know?”

Sam hung his head. “I told him. I wanted to hurt him, for hurting you.”

“I remember I was almost back to the motel, to him. I remember the truck.” Dean breathed slowly, watching his hand slide over the smooth surface. “I was still angry. I tripped, fell against it.” He could feel the jolt as his face connected just above the wheel well. “Then there were hands. They pushed me.” 

He shuddered and almost pulled away when Sam touched him. _Never cringe, never move_. “They…fucked me right here.” His hand stopped moving, pressed against the cool metal. “I couldn’t move. Then everything was dark.”

Sam gathered him close, held him. He felt warm, safe. He hadn’t felt that in a very long time. It made him feel bold. He tilted his head up, his lips seeking Sam’s. The arms around him tightened and he raised his arms to reciprocate. “Let’s go inside.” Sam whispered, drawing him toward the door.

When the door was closed and locked, Sam’s hands unzipped Dean’s jacket, pulling it off and tossing it aside. “Tell me what you want, Dean. Anything you want.” Sam’s arms were around his waist, his lips painting Dean’s face with kisses. 

“I want to please you.” It was an automatic response, drilled in to him. Fortunately this time he really meant it. 

“Aside from that. What do you want…for you?” Sam’s kiss was deep, his tongue sliding over Dean’s before he pulled back.

Dean wasn’t sure he knew what Sam was asking him. He wasn’t sure he knew how to answer. “Anything at all…first thing that pops into your mind.” Sam whispered.

Dean tilted his head as Sam’s mouth moved down to his neck, giving him more room, more neck to kiss. “Rules.”

It startled them both and Sam backed off enough to lead them over to the bed. “What kind of rules, Dean?”

He swallowed. “If I belong to you, there should be rules. You change the rules…the ones I know…it makes me uncomfortable.”

Sam nodded, but looked uncomfortable himself now. “Like…wearing clothes?” His eyes sought out Dean’s. “Like arousal and the kneeling?”

“I don’t know what to do sometimes.” Dean hated the way his stomach twisted when Sam looked at him like that…with the pity and the hints of disgust. “I’m trying, Sam, to remember how to be…what I used to be…but I’m not him anymore…I’m not.”

“Shh…it’s okay Dean. I understand. Really.” He kissed Dean softly and held his face. “Let’s start with the clothes thing. Unless we’re going to bed or I tell you otherwise, you wear underwear at least. Okay?”

Dean nodded. “Yes. Okay.”

“Good. And…I want you…I want you to be aroused when I touch you Dean…when we’re intimate…you don’t need permission to show me if you want me.” His hand slid between Dean’s thighs, pressing inward. “I like that I turn you on. Do you remember, Dean?”

He felt panic as Sam’s fingers played along the seam of the jeans. Months he’d worn the contraption that kept him limp, until he’d learned how to control himself…until he could have his prostrate stroked repeatedly without reaction….until he was nothing more than a tool. “Sam.” He couldn’t pull away. 

He’d woken up once with an erection after the thing came off and he’d been beaten severely. “Sam, please.” 

Sam’s hand stopped. “It’s okay Dean.”

Dean shook his head. “Not…not like this.”

“Like what?”

“Please Sam…let me…maybe if you let me…” He swallowed and tried to shake it off. He remembered he used to be more straightforward. “I want to come while you fuck me.”

Sam stared at him for a minute, then grinned. “That’s my Dean.” He kissed him, hard and wet and sloppy. “That, we can do.”

Dean smiled too, happy to see Sam smile, happy to earn that joy. “May I undress for you?”

The smile faded just a little, then Sam shook his head. “No. I want to do it. Just stand there.”

Sam shed his jacket, then his shirt before moving over to Dean. His hands slipped over bare arms, up under the sleeves of the t-shirt, before sliding down and gripping the material just above Dean’s waist. He tugged and the shirt came loose from the jeans. “The first time I did this…you were twenty. You were hurt, dislocated your shoulder.” His hands moved up under the shirt, caressing Dean’s skin as he moved the material upward. 

Dean felt lips press against his back. He lifted his arms as Sam pulled the shirt up further and Sam pressed his warm chest against Dean’s back. “I kissed every inch of you that night.” The t-shirt was bunched up in Sam’s hands as he pulled Dean closer, off balance. His mouth moved over Dean’s ear, down to the hollow just behind it, his tongue dipping in to touch his skin. “Learned I loved the taste of you.” 

Sam tossed the t-shirt aside, his hands gliding over Dean’s stomach and down to his jeans. Dean was already starting to get hard, despite his fear, because Sam wanted it and Sam was working so hard…and it was good…Sam’s hand was down inside his pants and Dean closed his eyes. “Please Sam…”

“Yeah, baby…” His long fingers slid up and out, popping the button and pulling the zipper before he kissed his way down Dean’s spine, pulling at his jeans as he went. Dean swayed a little on his feet as Sam kissed and licked his way up over Dean’s ass, then moved around so that he was squatting in front of him. “Step out, Dean.” Sam murmured.

Dean stepped free of the puddle of denim. Sam kissed Dean’s thighs, licking his way over hip bones and dipping into his navel until Dean moaned in spite of himself. He could feel Sam’s smile against the skin of his stomach. “You always were sensitive there.”

“Sam…please…want to…”

Sam was standing now, his hand closing over Dean’s cock, stroking it as he kissed him. “Mine, Dean. You belong to me…always…”

Dean gasped into Sam’s mouth, the pleasure of the words stronger than the feeling of his dick in Sam’s hands. “On the bed, Dean.”

“Yes…” Dean was already panting, but he moved, crawling up on the bed, kneeling, offering himself. “Please…Sam…want you inside me.”

Sam’s hand was on his back, sliding down over his ass. “No, Dean…not like that. I want to see you…on your back.”

Dean hesitated…then slowly did as he was told, looking up as Sam peeled off his jeans. Dean could feel his cock against his belly, his ass clenching and unclenching. “May I…prep…should I…?” His hand moved under him, ready to open himself, but Sam shook his head.

“I’ll do it. Spread your legs for me Dean.” 

Sam’s body was firm, strong, and his cock was hard and red as he climbed up onto the bed, easing between Dean’s thighs. His tongue slid over tense muscles as his hands moved Dean’s legs, bending the knees, planting his feet into the mattress. “Grab hold of the head board Dean. Hold on and don’t let go. I’m going to make this so good for you.”

He kissed his way down Dean’s thighs, his hands sliding under him to caress his ass, slowly working a finger closer to his hole. He wasn’t tight anymore, not like he’d been when they’d first taken him, and Sam’s one finger slid in easily without much resistance. Dean bucked as Sam pressed on his prostate, despite training…his cock twitched and Sam grinned. “Like that?”

“Sam…” It was almost a growl and Dean recoiled inwardly, but Sam licked up the underside of his cock and he lost track of what he was supposed to be doing. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and his legs fell open more. 

A second finger joined the first and a third, filling him, stretching him. It was so much different when than his own fingers, so much more. Sam pulled his hand away leaving Dean aching and open and whimpering. He couldn’t have stopped the sounds pouring from his mouth if there had been a handler with a whip standing over him.

Sam’s cock slid in as if he was made just to fit inside him. Sam groaned as his balls connected with Dean’s ass, laying himself over Dean and kissing him deeply. “So beautiful.” Sam whispered. His first thrusts were slow, pulling nearly out before pushing back in, his hands touching, his fingers leaving electric fire in their wake. Dean’s cock was trapped between them, wanting…waiting..

Sam shifted so that his knees were under him, lifting Dean’s ass off the mattress as he increased his pace and reached for Dean’s cock. “Is this good, Dean?”

“Yours Sam.” Dean responded, though he knew it wasn’t exactly what Sam wanted…for the moment it was all he had…he grunted as Sam’s fist tightened and turned and his cock swelled in response. “Yours…yours…Sam…”

It was all he knew right that moment, and endless stream of “yours” and “Sam” and “please”…

“Come for me, baby…want to see you come.” Sam whispered and Dean arched up, spilling himself over Sam’s hand and onto his stomach. “So hot…so beautiful.”

Sam thrust in hard once, twice, then he was filling Dean and Dean let himself fall against the mattress, relief flooding his body. Sam slipped out of him, leaned forward to lick the come up off of Dean’s stomach before kissing him, sharing the taste as his hands caressed up Dean’s arms to his hands. “Let go…it’s okay.”

Sam rolled them to their sides, pulling Dean close to him. “Are you all right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” 

“I love you Dean. Always.”

 

It was hardest when Sam left him alone, which admittedly wasn’t often. Without commands, without instruction, Dean was left to his own devices. Sam had been gone for more than an hour, and Dean set about straightening the room, organizing his brother’s clothes, and at the bottom of his duffle he found something familiar.

His hand closed around it and pulled it from the bag, rolling it in his hands before moving to the table with it. He unrolled it, laying out the cloth on the table and setting out the tools carefully. This was familiar, like chewing gum or the smell of leather. He pulled the gun out from under Sam’s pillow and stripped it down, setting out the pieces and carefully examining each one before cleaning it and setting it back on the cloth.

He was nearly finished when the door opened and Sam smiled at him. He remembered that smile too…it made him warm inside. “Hey.”

Dean smiled awkwardly. “I…needed something to do.”

“It’s okay Dean. It’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hey…I, um…I got you something while I was out.”

Sam set the grocery bags on the bed and reached into his pocket for a small package. He came and sat at the table, taking Dean’s hands away from the gun and holding them. “I have a confession to make, and I don’t want it to upset you. Okay? Just hear me through before you react.” 

Dean was surprised to see Sam was nervous. “Every time I see that collar, Dean, I think of you in that place…and it’s driving me crazy. I know it means something to you…and I don’t want you to think you aren’t good enough or that I don’t want you…but I can’t look at it anymore.” 

Sam reached up to touch it and Dean ducked his head dutifully. “So…I bought you something to replace it.” Sam pulled his hands free and opened the box. Inside, coiled around itself was a leather choker, smaller, thinner than the one he wore. “That collar marked you a slave, Dean…this one…this one marks you as mine…my…Dean. It means I’ll always protect you, I’ll always take care of you…that you’ll never be alone.”

He held it up between them and Dean’s eyes fixed on it, ignoring the tears that burned in his eyes. “Will you wear this one for me?” Sam asked, his voice small and soft. “Be mine forever?”

Dean couldn’t look at him, but he nodded, bowing his head to give Sam room to maneuver the buckle of the collar. It came off in his hands and for the first time, it’s absence didn’t make him feel like nothing…like he was worthless. Instead, as Sam slipped the supple leather of the new collar on him, it felt like maybe he was something after all.


	4. To Be Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam bought him back. Now Dean is starting to remember who he is, but breaking through the conditioning proves to be difficult, and John's presence seems to once again be a breaking point for Dean

The knock on the door was soft, but Dean stiffened. Sam got up, peeking through the window and grimacing. “It’s Dad. He…really wants to see that you’re okay.”

Dean licked his lips. “Should I…” He looked down at himself, clad only in boxers. “Pants. I should put on pants.”

Sam nodded. “That would be good.”

Dean reached for the faded gray sweatpants that lay on the bed. They were comfortable, even if they were too big. Once he had them on, he nodded. Sam opened the door. “Come on in Dad.”

John looked nervous as he came into the room, his eyes sweeping over Dean. “Hello Dean.”

The sound of his voice ripped through Dean and he swayed a little on his feet. Sam was at his side in a second and Dean shook his head. “I’m okay. Just…memory.”

“Dean’s been remembering…it’s been hard.”

“I’ve been worried, with the two of you locked up inside here for days on end.”

Dean swallowed and attempted a step out of the corner he’d unconsciously backed into. “Forgot so much.” He looked to Sam, then toward his father not quite getting to his face. “I’m sorry.”

John exhaled softly. “What? You…it’s me…I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean cringed, turned away as a memory surfaced.

_”My son, Dean. Pretty face, might be hard to break._

Sam’s hand was on his shoulder, but Dean’s stomach churned and he was dizzy. “Dean, what are you saying?”

He looked up, unaware he’d spoken out loud. “Sam…I…he…traded…” He was breathing heavily as the memory flooded him. He’d been there a long time, subjected to sensory deprivation, starvation, rape, beatings…and he clung to the hope that they would come. He’d been close to cracking when they came…his handler Thomas and the trainer Razz. 

Dean closed his eyes, sinking to the floor, to his knees next to Sam. He could feel the cold metal floor of the cage, the heavy weight of the shackles on his wrists and ankles. His lip was split, but had stopped bleeding. 

_”We figured it was time you knew the truth, slave. About why you’re here.” Thomas tugged his head back and Razz held the tape player._

_He pushed the button and Dean gasped as his father’s voice poured out of it. “My son, Dean. Pretty face, might be hard to break. Once you do though, he’s obedient. Trained him that way myself.”_

Sam’s hand was on his head, as Dean sobbed, folding nearly to the floor. “It…I was sure…it was him…it sounded like him.”

“Shh…Dean…it’s okay.” Sam let him rock against his leg for a minute, then Dean looked up. 

He felt shattered, like any breath could send him spiraling into the blackness. “Fair trade, he said. Fair trade, two turnips.” 

Sam squatted beside him, wiping away the tears. “Two turnips? For someone as pretty as you? Doesn’t sound like our father, does it Dean?”

Sam turned Dean’s face toward John. “He didn’t trade you Dean. I don’t know how they faked his voice, and maybe he didn’t look for you right away, but he thought you were blowing off steam, isn’t that right Dad?”

John didn’t come closer, but he nodded. “I thought, after our fight, that you found some pretty girl and would be back in a few days…I never…thought…God Dean…” He ran a hand over his face and Dean noticed he looked haggard…hadn’t shaved in a while, dark circles under his eyes. 

Dean shook his head. “I know…I mean…they lied. Like when they said you were dead, Sam.” Dean held to his brother’s hand for a minute. “They played it, over and over…for days. I stopped fighting so hard…I stopped…” He’d stopped being defiant, even if he wasn’t flat out obedient. It took the pictures of Sam to do that. He took a deep breath. “May I go to the bathroom?”

Sam’s hand brushed through his hair. “Of course, Dean. Take your time.”

Dean stood shakily and closed the bathroom door behind him. It wasn’t privacy, because he’d given up expecting privacy when he’d woke to find himself naked and chained in a cage. His hands were shaking as he turned on the water to splash over his face. They’d played the tape and something inside him stopped working. He didn’t want to believe it…but they hadn’t stopped there.

_”I told your daddy what would become of you, slave. He asked if he could watch.” Thomas said as Razz pushed Dean’s face toward the floor, positioning him with his ass up. “Maybe we’ll send him pictures.”_

_Razz was one of the bigger trainers, and his cock was larger than most. Thomas laughed as Razz drove into Dean, playing the tape again and again while Razz raped him. He hadn’t cried, not once through the whole ordeal, not until that moment. He knew then he was doomed…that his father wasn’t coming, and Sam would never know. He surrendered then…and Razz knew it because he plowed that much harder into him, pressing him against the metal underneath him._

Dean cussed into the sink, his hands beating against the porcelain. Rage filled him, white hot and burning in his throat…an emotion he hadn’t felt in months. He looked up, looked into his own eyes in the mirror. He hated what he saw there. Hate, rage…things forbidden him…and yet…it was if the man in the mirror was someone else, the old Dean…then man Sam expected to find, the one John wanted to see…the one Dean wasn’t anymore…

He didn’t even register the pain as his fist slammed into the mirror, as the glass shattered and sliced his knuckles, not until the door was bursting open and there was blood in the sink and Sam looked so scared. Dean sank to his knees and offered up his bloody hand. “I’m sorry. Sorry…Sam…I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay Dean, let me see.” Dean ducked his head while Sam picked glass out of the wounds. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move. _Never flinch, Master can do anything he desires._ He shook his head. “Okay, let’s clean this up. Stand up Dean.”

Sam pushed his hand under the water and turned to call their father. “Dad, could you get the first aid kit from my bag. I’m gonna need some bandages.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean said again, the rage drained and replaced by shame. He breathed out. Punishment was due. He damaged himself. He’d done it once before, cut himself shaving. He dared a glance up at Sam. He didn’t seem angry. Maybe he’d wait until their father was gone. That was worse. The waiting.

John was back with the first aid kit, passing it through to Sam who was bent over examining the wounds. “How bad?”

Sam shook his head. “Won’t need stitches.” He pressed a towel over the hand, drying it. Dean looked anywhere but at Sam or the hand or their father. He was better trained. He should have known better. “Come on Dean, let’s get this bandaged.” Sam maneuvered him until he was sitting on the toilet, setting the first aid kit behind him. “Want to tell me what that was about?” Sam asked as he dabbed antibiotic ointment on the cuts.

Dean’s eyes stayed on his lap. “I was angry,” he said sullenly. “I’m sorry. I know better. I can be better.”

“Stop apologizing, it’s fine.”

“No, I damaged…” He looked up at his father, then back to Sam before dropping his gaze. “Your property. I damaged what belongs to you.” He said it quietly, hoping only Sam would hear. The look his father was giving him made him feel dirty, broken.

Sam stopped and looked at him. “What?” His hand rose to Dean’s face. “Look at me, Dean.”

Dean swallowed the lump of fear in his throat and looked up, looking away almost instantly. “Please Sam.”

“I’m not angry.” Sam said, caressing his cheek. “I was worried, that’s all.”

Dean nodded, but wasn’t sure if he believed him. John paced away and Dean sagged a little. He was tired, unbelievably tired. “There. Better.” Sam said, taping down the last of the bandage. “I’m going out into the other room with Dad. Take your time.”

Sam pulled the door closed part way and Dean listened as he and their father spoke quietly. He couldn’t make out the words, but he knew it had to be about him. Sam wouldn’t want him now…damaged goods. He’d give him away…send him—No, Sam promised him he’d never go back. Maybe he’d send him away with their father. 

“You what?” Dean heard Sam shout and stood abruptly. He couldn’t make out what his father said in return, but Sam’s voice was loud. “What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Fuck Dad!”

“Watch your mouth, Sam. I’m still your father.”

“You know, sometimes I wonder!” It sounded like Sam was moving now, back toward the bathroom door. Dean moved into the corner by the toilet instinctively. _If Master raises his voice to someone in the room, go to the corner, stay out of the way._

“Is there anything else you’d like to confess here, Dad? I mean, while we’re at it?”

“What about you? What have you two been doing in here?”

“What is **that** supposed to mean?”

“Don’t you think I see it? The way he acts like…like you fucking own him?”

“Of course he does. What did you think? A year’s worth of conditioning would disappear just because I found him? Dad, I **bought** him, in a fucking slave market. I paid for him and led him out of there on a fucking leash…he sat there, in an _unlocked_ cage on his fucking knees.” 

Dean’s face flushed. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard Sam talk about the cage like that. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what Sam expected. To leave the cage would mean punishment, of the worst kind.

“I don’t like it Sam. I don’t like this. We should be doing something. Make him remember.”

“Yeah, because remembering is helping so much. God Dad, you don’t have any idea do you? Can you even begin to imagine what they had to do to him to break him? I don’t even. I know a little, what he’s remembered, what he talks about in his sleep…the nightmares…I thought mine were bad.”

“We should be hunting down the bastards that did this.” 

Dean felt Sam’s eyes from the doorway but didn’t look up. “Let’s not talk about that here, Dad. Let me…let me settle Dean in for the night. I’ll come to your room when I know he’s asleep. We can talk then.”

Dean heard them move away. He took a deep breath to steady himself. Best to present himself for punishment before he was called. He slipped from the bathroom and moved between the beds. Before Sam turned back from closing the door, Dean was on his knees, hands behind his head, leaning forward so that his back was exposed. 

“Dean?”

“I’m ready.”

“For what?”

“My punishment.” He didn’t look up. “I was bad…wrong…I shouldn’t have broken the mirror. You have to punish me.”

“No, Dean. I’m not going to—“

“Please Sam. You have to. So I can be good.” He dared to look up. “I want to be good, Sam.”

Sam shook his head and sat on the bed. “I think you’ve had enough pain for one day.”

Dean closed his eyes. “You have to.” His voice was small. It confused him when Sam didn’t understand. 

Sam sank to his knees in front of his brother, his hands rising to hold his face as he leaned in to kiss him. He sighed then, almost sounding defeated. “What is it you need, Dean?”

“I should be whipped.” Dean said, his eyes dropping to Sam’s chest. 

Sam’s voice was gentle. “We don’t have a whip, Dean.”

Dean choked on the words, “Belt will do.”

“God, Dean, I’m not taking a belt to you. Not for something like this. Anger is good. I’m proud of you.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, despair eating at him. He had to make Sam see. He leaned forward, putting his head in Sam’s lap. “I was bad. I damaged property. I damaged me. If you don’t…it means it doesn’t matter…I don’t matter…I’m not good enough to discipline…not worth keeping…nothing…I don’t want to be nothing any more, Sam…” Dean sobbed, his body rocking into Sam’s until Sam’s hands slid down his bare back, soothing, caressing.

“Shh…Dean…it’s okay…it’s okay…I understand…calm down.” Sam’s lips pressed kisses into Dean’s back. “Calm down. Just…give me a minute.” He slipped away, standing and pacing over to the dresser and back. The third trip to the dresser, he came back with a belt. “I don’t know if I can do this Dean.”

“It’s okay, Sammy. You can do it. I trust you.” Somehow that sounded wrong, but Dean couldn’t place why, just bent forward again so his back was exposed. “Three…okay…its enough…so I can be better.”

“God…Dean…” He could hear pain in Sam’s voice, and felt a twinge of guilt. He shouldn’t be causing Sam pain. He was supposed to give him pleasure. 

“Please.” Dean whispered. The sound of leather slapping against skin startled him, before he even felt the bite. It wasn’t hard…and he thought he heard Sam sob. “Please.” The second one fell a little more strongly, over his left shoulder. The third barely registered, as Sam dropped the belt before it fully connected and fell to his knees, gathering Dean up in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Dean…I shouldn’t...” He cried as he held Dean and Dean found himself folding his arms around Sam and petting his hair like he had when they were younger.

“It’s okay, Sammy. I’m okay now. I’m better.” He kissed the tears away from Sam’s cheeks and smiled. “Everything’s okay.”

It took a while, but slowly Sam nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m okay too Dean.” His kiss pressed softly to Dean’s lips. “I love you so much…I don’t want to do that again, okay?”

Dean smiled and nodded. “I’ll be good. I’ll be yours.” His hand rose to the black leather around his throat. “Yours forever.”

“Good. Now, you must be tired. You were up early today and it’s been rough. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

“Are you going to him?” Dean asked, trying not to sound petulant.

Sam nodded. “I’m going to try to explain things to him, and maybe we’ll figure out what we should do next.”

“He wants to hunt.”

“Yes, he does. But I don’t know if he’s ready for what he’ll find.”

“He wants to hurt them…for what happened to me.”

Again, Sam nodded. “Yes Dean, but no more than I do. It’s just you’re my first priority. I’m not going near them until you’re strong enough…and then only when I know you’re someplace safe. Then…I’m going to shut Gorlian and the whole fucking mess down.”

Dean yawned and Sam encouraged him up off the floor. “Let’s tuck you into bed.”

He stripped out the sweats and crawled into bed. “May I ask you something?” Sam nodded as he adjusted the blankets. “What did he say? Why did you yell at him?”

Sam licked his lips. “The recording they played for you…he said that they probably got it from his cell phone…that he’d use most of those words on his cell, either to you or others in the two weeks before they grabbed you. It wouldn’t take much to put it together with the right equipment. He said that he thought he’d heard voices on the line, and he got a new phone shortly after you went missing.”

Dean closed his eyes. “It was his voice then, not a fake.”

“Probably.”

“That doesn’t make it feel better.”

“I know. Will you be okay alone for a bit?”

Dean nodded. “I’ll be fine.” He meant good, but Sam didn’t look like that was what he wanted to hear. Fine was better…and Dean was going to make sure he was better, from now on.


	5. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam reacts to his punishment of Dean...and not well. And Sam and John try to find a way to be together without fighting.

Sam managed to get the door closed behind him before the tears came back, before he bent over, heaving with uncontrollable grief…His hands shook as he tried to put the image out of his mind, of Dean on his knees begging him to…hit him…to punish him.

He started when he felt hands on his back, but relaxed when his father’s face came into view. “I can’t….do this…I can’t….”

“Sam?”

“Fuck!” He remembered not to yell. Dean would hear him. He couldn’t let Dean see this. “Fuck. I don’t think I can do this Dad. I can’t be what he needs me to be. Not like that.”

“Like what Sam? What happened?”

Sam shook his head, then buried his face in his hands. “I’ve tried…but every time he talks about it…every time he remembers…I want to be sick…I want to shake him and make him stop. Fuck.”

“Sam, talk to me.”

“Not here.” Sam put a hand on his father’s shoulder and leveraged himself to his feet. “Walk with me. Just out…away from the window.” John rose and followed him, out to a picnic table under the overhead light by the office. There weren’t many people out and about, despite the relatively early hour. “At first, when I started to figure it out…where he was, I mean…I thought that they’d have to kill him…because Dean?” He shook his head. “The Dean I knew, he’d never let himself be taken…and if by some chance he did, he’d never become…what he is.” 

Sam looked down at his hands. “I almost called you when I got to New York. That’s when I was finally close enough. I…did things, Dad…you would never have approved of…dark magic…other stuff…”

“Is that why you didn’t call me?” John sat on the table and Sam could feel his eyes.

He shrugged. “Part of it. I was…pretty angry.”

“I remember.” John rubbed his face to indicate he hadn’t forgotten the right cross that had knocked him on his ass before Sam stalked away.

“The more I realized what I’d have to do to get him back, the less I wanted you involved.” Sam made a face and shoved his hands in his pocket. His stomach danced with anxiety. “The more I see in him, the more I’m sure that was the right decision. You’re the key here, Dad. Every time he hears your voice, it triggers something, a reaction, a memory.”

He paced and thought about how to tell him…about how much to tell him. “I wanted to hurt you…that day you showed up. I wanted to see you react. I blamed you. I still do to some degree, but it’s my fault too. When I left…Dean and I…” He exhaled slowly. No…that part of their relationship John Winchester had no need to know about. “I hurt him. I abandoned him, the one person in my life who never abandoned me.” He held up his hand when his father started to speak.

“I don’t want to fight about it. Us fighting isn’t helping Dean. Right now, I’ve got to concentrate on him.” He sighed. “You have a right to know…I know. I’m just not sure I can…do it. Not anymore.”

“Start with something easier then. How did you catch his trail? I searched…I didn’t find anything.”

Sam sighed and came to sit beside him. “They were good…but you weren’t far off about Dean finding a pretty girl. Her name was Candace. She’s a truck driver, just passing through. By the time you went looking, she was on the road. When I got there, she was passing through again…eventually. From her, I found out Dean noticed a car in the parking lot of the bar. Said he’d seen it a few times. She remembered part of the plates.”

“You tracked these guys through their license plate?”

Sam shook his head. “Just a lead. Took me months to put it together. The trail eventually led me to this seedy bar in New Mexico. They…it was part whorehouse, part slave market…they peddled in flesh there, but not…” Sam cleared his throat. “The woman at the bar gave me Gorlian’s name, said I might find what I was looking for with him.”

He got up again, restless. “She told me Gorlian specialized in hunters and half-breeds…took great pleasure in breaking his slaves so completely that their own mother could walk into their cage and they wouldn’t know her. She wasn’t kidding.”

John’s face was hidden behind his hands. “What did he do to your brother Sam?”

Sam sighed. He knew even the little bit he understood was going to hurt his father, going to break him. Part of him relished the power to do that. His lips were a tight line as he nodded. “You aren’t going to like this.”

“Just tell me.”

“I know that he was grabbed right out side your motel room. They…raped him the first time against the side of your truck.” Sam blinked back the tears, tried to make his voice steady. “They locked him in the dark with no food or water for days, and when they finally gave him water, they put it in a bowl on the ground and forced him onto his hands and knees to drink it…while they…fucked him from behind.”

He watched his father’s shoulders quake, then turned away. “He’s only spoken about little moments…things that stand out, or come back. There were beatings, the kind that hurt and leave bruises, but don’t mar the skin. Couldn’t mark the merchandise. Gorlian told me it took a while to break him.”

John was quiet a while, sobbing silently before he slipped off the table and paced around Sam. “He told me a few days ago that they told him I was dead, showed him pictures. It was after the thing with the recording of you. It was the last straw. He had nothing left to fight for…no reason to resist anymore.”

“And now…now you can explain to me exactly what context you said those words in.” Sam felt the anger flare inside him again. “You tell me you said them, exactly those words. What am I supposed to think? What is Dean supposed to think?”

John’s shoulders slumped forward and he pressed his hands to the table, ducking his head. “I was working a job. They…cut out parts…of the conversation…” 

_My son, Dean._

“There was a man. I was going to send Dean to meet him, because I had a lead on the demon…didn’t want Dean there.”

_Pretty face_

“He had a problem with an evil spirit…a girl.”

_might be hard to break… Once you do though …_

“The locals had buried her in concrete so that she couldn’t claw her way out of the grave.”

_he’s obedient._

“He had some specific concerns, wanted to be sure Dean would do as he was told.”

_Trained him that way myself_

“Told him I was a stickler for details.” John slumped forward a little more, his voice quieter. “When Dean didn’t come back, I went to do the job myself. Turns out the whole thing was a hoax. There was no evil spirit, no man.” John’s voice dropped even lower. “Turns out the lead on the demon was bad too. They played me.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the developing headache. He blew out a breath and tried to think around the swirling in his stomach and the pounding in his head. “They hunted him…just like we would.”

John nodded miserably.

“What about the turnips?”

John looked up. “The guy said he was a farmer. Offered us trade. Corn, tomatoes, turnips. Told him we didn’t need the turnips. Fair trade.”

“Fair trade.” Sam echoed. “Fuck!” He wanted to be sick all over again. “I knew they’d followed you for a while…but they must have been on you a lot longer.” His head filled with the image of Dean as he’d been when he’d found him. “They knew exactly what they were doing…exactly how to break him.”

“So…what do we do now?”

Sam looked at the door of the room he shared with Dean. “He’s…so…broken, Dad. I don’t know if I can fix this.” Sam’s voice cracked and he crossed his arms over his chest as if to protect himself. “God…he…asked me to…hit him…punish him. He needed it to know he was worth keeping.” Sam squatted down, making himself as small as could, huddling into himself. “He begged me to hit him…and god help me, I did.” 

“Sam?”

“I hit him…with a belt…because he begged me…because he needed it…to know he was…” He heaved, grabbing at his sides. He looked up at his father. “It may be more than we can do ourselves.”

“No. No, Sam. Dean wouldn’t want that.” John shook his head vehemently. “No, we do this our way.”

“I don’t want to, believe me…but we have to think of him. What if…god, what if I only make it worse?” 

“You said I’m triggering things, right?”

Sam nodded, then shook his head. “No…Dad, he’ll fall apart completely if you push him. We have to take it slow.” His father would never be capable of giving Dean what he needed. “You…could you handle it…when he begs to serve you? When he’s naked and on his knees because it’s all he knows…all he remembers…?” 

“Damn it Sam!” John paced away, then turned slowly back to Sam. “What are you saying?”

Sam pressed up to standing. “Just…small steps, okay?”

John’s arm closed around Sam’s wrist. “Sam?” His voice was dark, edged with anger.

“Dad, there are some things you don’t want to know.” Sam pulled his arm free. “I’m doing anything I can to make Dean better. That’s all you need to know.”

“I think you should tell me.”

Sam sighed and started back to the room. “And I think we should both get some sleep.” He didn’t look back, just walked away. With the door shut behind him, Sam let himself slump against it. Dean stirred in his sleep, rolling over. Sam could see the welt that had formed from the one decent blow he’d given him. “I’m sorry Dean,” he whispered. It was going to be long night.

 

Sam finally drifted to sleep in the chair across the room from Dean, unable to bring himself to climb into bed with him…or abandon him by sleeping in the second bed. When he woke Dean was done with his morning bathroom ritual and was wearing his boxers, sitting on the bed, waiting.

Sam was stiff and sore from the awkward position, but stretched and smiled at his brother.

“I didn’t know if I should wake you.”

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep. You hungry?”

“Yes.”

Sam smiled. “I thought we’d try going out. You and me and Dad? Breakfast, then maybe some shopping. You need more clothes.”

“I have plenty.”

Sam stood. “Humor me. Get dressed in some jeans and a shirt. Put your shoes on. When you’ve done that, go to room 18 and knock on the door. Ask Dad to come with us.” 

Dean stood, but stopped. “You want me to…go outside? Alone?”

Sam nodded. “Yes, Dean. I think you can handle that. In fact, once you’ve asked Dad, why don’t you wait out by the car, in the sun. You need some sun on your face. I’m going to jump in the shower and get dressed.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Okay.”

 

John Winchester didn’t sleep that night either. He spent a large part of it on the phone, calling in favors, pressing contacts, gathering the forces. Sam was right that they couldn’t drag Dean around for this, and they were probably in over their collective heads. But, he’d gathered enough information to set things in motion…and John had never been a man who could just sit around and wait.

As he stepped out of the shower, the knock on his door surprised him. He expected another day at least to pass before Sam was ready to talk to him again. “Door’s open, Sam.”

He ruffled a towel through his hair, looking up when the door didn’t open. He frowned and crossed to the door, surprised when he opened it to find Dean standing there, eyes downcast, hands behind his back. “Dean?”

“Sam sent me.” He cleared his throat and looked up, then back at the ground. 

“Why didn’t you open the door?”

“You said Sam. I’m not Sam.”

“Oh, I guess I did. Come in.”

Dean shook his head. “Sam said I should be outside. In the sun. But first to ask you to come with us.”

John realized he was still frowning and tried to stop. “Where are you going?”

“Breakfast, then maybe shopping.”

“I’d like to join you. Thank you Dean. Where’s Sam?”

“Showering. I’m supposed to wait for him outside, by the car. He said I needed sun on my face.”

“You know, there’s a picnic table over there. You could sit there.”

“He didn’t say to sit.” Dean frowned, then looked over his shoulder. “It is near the car though.”

John smiled. “Yes, it is.”

“May I ask you something?” Dean looked at him for the first time, his green eyes open and expectant.

“Sure, anything.”

“Did you…do you blame me?”

John’s breathe caught in his throat. “What? No, Dean. Never.”

Dean nodded. “Sometimes when you look at me, I think you do. It’s okay, if you do. I know I disappointed you. I’m not…I’m not the son you remember.”

“You are my son. And I love you. No matter what, Dean. Do you understand that?”

Dean’s eyes were back on the ground and his absent minded nod did nothing to convince John he did understand. “I need to get dressed, but I’ll be right out to wait with you for Sam, okay?”

Dean nodded again, and walked away, toward the picnic table. He waited until Dean had circled the table once and tentatively picked a place to sit, then he closed the door and dressed before running a comb through his hair and pushing his feet into his boots. 

When he opened his door, Dean was sitting with his eyes closed, his face turned into the sun, something like wonder on his face. With a deep breath, John crossed the parking lot, making sure he didn’t get in the way of Dean’s light. “Feels good doesn’t it?”

Dean didn’t flinch just nodded. “I forgot.” 

John sat next to him and pointed his own face into the sun. “Sometimes I do too. When I’m hunting and only come out at night.” He felt Dean look at him and didn’t move. “I can go months without ever feeling that kiss of warmth.”

“Your skin is dark.” Dean observed and John chuckled.

“Yes, I guess it probably is. I worked in daylight the last month or so.”

“I saw the sun the day they took me from training to the market. A few minutes while we were loaded into the truck. Then, it was raining when we were taken out of the truck.” Dean looked down, squinting and making a face that once might have indicated he was disgusted. “Then…the day Sam came for me…it was sunny then too.”

John didn’t begin to know how to respond, so he settled for putting his hand on his son’s back. His face twitched. “Is this okay, Dean?”

“Not my place to say.” Dean said. 

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll move it.”

“Not uncomfortable…not for me…Rules.” He sighed. John could tell it was difficult for him. 

“Tell me what rules, Dean.”

“Not supposed to be touched unless the master—“ His breathing hitched a little and he glanced at John. “Unless Sam says so.”

“Okay.” John pulled the hand back. “Better?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Dean.” It wasn’t fine, but he could see the tension in his boy’s body, and the release when John acknowledged the rules and pulled back. “We’ll get there.”

Sam opened the door and waved at them. Dean stood nervously as Sam approached. “I sat here. He said it was close enough, and the sun felt good.”

Sam smiled and nodded. “You did good, Dean.” 

John stood. “He did very good, Sam. We had a nice talk.”

“He touched me.” Dean said suddenly, looking at John, then at the ground. 

“It’s okay, Dean. He’s allowed to. He’s your father.”

Dean looked up and smiled nervously. “Yeah?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Is that okay?”

“I liked it.” Dean responded and John felt his heart unclench a little.

“Let’s go eat.”

 

They’d just about finished their breakfast when Dean asked permission to relieve himself. “Can you handle it on your own, or should I come with you?” Sam asked.

Dean eyed the distance from the table to the restroom door. “I’m okay.”

When the door shut, Sam sighed and sank a little in his seat. “What about us? We okay?”

John stabbed his last sausage and looked at Sam…at the dark circles and the weary expression. “Yeah, Sam. I think I need to spend more time with him….like this morning.” He held up his hand when Sam started to react. “Small steps. He managed to talk about something that he remembered without freaking out. Told me about how he felt the sun when they moved him from training to the…other place.” John swallowed the word “market”…wouldn’t say it out loud.

“Yeah?”

John shoved the sausage in his mouth. “I…he got uncomfortable when I touched his back, but didn’t get agitated.”

“Did he tell you he was uncomfortable?” Sam asked, sitting up now.

“No…I could tell though.”

“That would have been a break through. It’s like pulling teeth to get him to express anything. That’s why the anger in the bathroom yesterday was so important.”

Sam cradled his coffee cup in his big hands, his eyes sweeping over the rest of the room and back to the restroom door. Something felt…wrong. He moved his eyes back across the room but didn’t see anything. “I’m going to check on Dean.”

John nodded and grabbed the bill. “I’ll pay and meet you outside.”

“Dean?” Sam scanned the bathroom, coming to rest on the only stall door that was closed. “You okay?”

The door opened. Dean looked he was a little spooked. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“I got scared.” Dean said. “Someone came in and…I was scared.”

Sam smiled and rubbed his arm. “No one’s here now, just you and me. Want to wash up?”

“Are you going to give me to Dad?” Dean asked suddenly, looking up at the mirror, at Sam in the mirror.

Sam shook his head. “No Dean. Why would you ask that?”

He lowered his eyes. “I’m just trying to understand. He touched me and it was okay. Only masters touch.”

Sam reached under Dean’s t-shirt and touched the choker/collar. “What does this mean, Dean?”

“That I’m yours.”

Sam nodded. “Always. I’m never going to ask you to take it off.”

“He’s trying to be my father.” Dean finished washing his hands and reached for the paper towels Sam handed him. 

“Yes, because that’s what he is.”

“I’m not sure how to act around him. Even more than when you….when you don’t tell me what to do.”

Sam turned Dean to face him. “I have a new rule for you Dean. From now on, unless I give you a direct order, you can do anything you want.”

“Anything?” Dean breathed.

“Yes, anything. Go outside, watch television…anything Dean. And I want you to be able to talk to us, either of us. Just…don’t mention the sex stuff to Dad, okay? He won’t understand.”

Dean actually looked at him then with an expression Sam knew well, and hadn’t seen in a long, long time. It said that Sam was wasting his breath with the obvious. “Good. So let’s see about getting you more than one pair of jeans that fit right, okay?”

 

Two hours later, Sam was heading to the register at the local thrift store, after sending Dean and his father out to the car. “Hey. Just these.” He set the couple of pairs of jeans on the counter and pulled his wallet out.

A voice beside him startled him and he looked up into the face a man who had a good three inches on him, and out weighed him by quite a bit. “I said, hello Mr. Silvers. My name is Razz.”

Sam ducked the punch and dove for the door. He got it open and screamed for his father. “Go! Dad, get him out of here!” He felt the hand on the back of his hoodie, yanking him back into the store, but saw his father’s startled face and the car pulling out onto the street. He landed a good kick into a fleshy thigh, but then hands were yanking him, four…maybe six hands binding him and then one came down on the back of his neck. He fell limp into the dark.


	6. To Be Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean was kidnapped and made into a slave. Sam bought him back, but he paid for him with a bunch of paper conjured to look like $85,000...now the men who sold Dean want their money...or their slave back.

Dean started as the car jerked and veered, pulling out on the road. He’d been withdrawn, but Sam wasn’t in the car. He looked up, saw Sam at the door being yanked backward. “Sam.” He grabbed his father over the seat, clawing his shoulder. “Sam.”

“I know, Dean. I know. We’ve got a problem. Just hold tight.”

Dean turned to look out the back window, but Sam’s face was gone from the door. “No. No. Can’t go. Not without him.”

He turned back to his father. “Can’t go.”

“We aren’t. Just making it look like we are.”

The car swerved, and they were in the parking lot of a strip mall. Dean followed John’s eyes out the window, back toward the thrift store. There was something familiar in it, in the looking out the window this way. “No one’s left the store.” John said, making Dean look back at him.

“We left Sam. You took me from Sam.”

John spared him a look, before turning back. From here they could see the front and back of the store and still no one had left it. “Sam needs my help Dean. I’m not sure what to do. I can’t leave you alone. I can’t take you in there.”

“I want to help Sam.” 

John smiled. “I’m sure you do, Son, but I’m fairly sure the men who grabbed him are the ones who…hurt you. I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

“They want me back?” Dean shook his head. Sam bought him. Paid for him. “Sam bought me. They don’t get to have me back. Sam said I wouldn’t go back.” He was starting to hyperventilate as he recognized the feeling racing through him. He was afraid.

“It isn’t that simple, Dean. Sam…tricked them. Paid for you with money he didn’t have.”

Dean stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

“He used magic to make it look real. There was no way he could come up with that much money.”

Dean shook his head. No, that couldn’t be true. If it was he…he wasn’t Sam’s…didn’t belong. They would hurt Sam. They would take him back. His fingers played with the collar. Sam said he was his. Sam said. Dean wanted Sam. Wanted to be Sam’s. “They’ll kill him.” Dean breathed. “For real this time.”

He grabbed his father’s shoulder again. “I can’t let that happen. Not like that. I know what they’ll do to him. They showed me once.”

_”Time for your last show and tell, slave.”_

_Dean was in his cage, forced up to his knees, which were bloody from the violence the day before. “You know Daddy doesn’t want you.” Thomas crossed his arms over his chest, his whip hanging over one shoulder and wrapped around an arm. “Baby brother isn’t coming for you either.”_

_Razz laughed and the sound shook Dean out of the stupor he’d been in since hearing his father’s voice. “Well, he came for me, didn’t he Thomas?” Razz leaned over to talk into his ear. “I fucked him in front of his girlfriend. Told him how pretty you looked with your mouth full of my cock, choking on it. He came all over himself.”_

_Dean reached for him, getting a hand on his arm, before Thomas’s whip hit his back. “Wanna see?” Razz held out his hand and someone handed him a folder. The first picture was Sam on the Stanford quad. Then one of him holding some blonde’s hand. The third was Sam bent over the hood of a car, his ass bare. The fourth was Razz buried in him. Dean looked away, but Thomas was behind him, forcing his eyes back. There were five or six of Razz raping him…then blood everywhere, the blonde laying in a pool of it, Sam’s bare back and ass covered in it._

_“I fucked him, then I killed them both.”_

_Dean shook his head, tried to pull free as his stomach erupted and he was vomiting up the very little he’d eaten. “You are nothing. You are no one. You are alone.”_

_Razz pulled his face up. Sam was dead…Sam…_

“I’m not letting them kill him. Not again.” Dean was shaking, partly with the memory, partly from the fear running through him. If they were there, if they had Sam…they could want him too. “I want a gun.”

John looked at him. “I don’t think—“

“I won’t go in…but if they come out…I—I want a gun.” Dean swallowed. “I don’t want to be nothing again. I don’t want…” _Slaves don’t have desires_. He took a deep breath. “Please.”

John nodded and handed Dean a gun from under the front seat. Dean looked at it for a minute, then popped the magazine, checking the load before reseating it. John picked up his phone and dialed a number. “Where are you?”

Dean watched the store, while his father spoke to someone on the phone. When he saw three men coming out of the back he touched his father’s arm. “Hang on Caleb. I see them Dean.” The two big men half carried a third, who had a hood over his face. “Can’t tell if that’s Sam.”

“Razz.” Dean breathed. “On the right. Razz. Trainer. It’s Sam. They’ve got Sam.” 

“Calm down, Dean. Caleb…they’re moving. I can’t follow them in the Impala.” 

Dean watched as they pushed Sam into a black Explorer. With his heart stammering in his chest he climbed out of the car, watching the Explorer and crawling over to a station wagon parked next to the Impala. Once upon a time he knew how to steal a car.

“Dean?”

“Watch them.” Dean said, easing open the driver’s side door, hoping he could remember. He put his hand down on the mat as he reached under the dash, then stopped. He pulled the mat aside and found a key. He smiled triumphantly at his father through the passenger window and started the car, still on his knees beside it. John cursed, then was opening his door and getting in the passenger’s seat. 

“Come on.”

Dean hesitated only briefly before he was behind the wheel and feeling his way around. “I can do this.” He looked at his father. “I was good at this, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, Dean, better than me. Go…”

Dean looked up and saw the explorer pulling away on the street. “For Sam. I can do this.” He put the gun on the seat next to him and put the car in reverse, accelerating a little too much, then throwing it into drive.

Beside him his father put his seat belt on, then put the phone back to his ear. “Caleb, we’re following. I’ll call you back.”

 

Sam could tell they were in a vehicle, moving at pretty good clip. His face was already starting to swell from the blows that landed there. He was going to have at least one black eye. He blew out, realizing that was likely the least of his worries. 

The hood was hot and confining. There was blood drying at the corner of his mouth. His hands were bound behind him, tightly enough that it hurt. The big man had said he was Razz, a name he knew from what little Dean said about the people he remembered. This was really not good. He tried to figure out how they’d found them. There hadn’t been any signs. Not since the first stop. They’d been careful, using credit cards as little as possible, and different ones each time. No calls from local phones, no contact with people who knew them.

They hit a bump and Sam was jostled around, his face slamming into the back of the seat. Either they were just that good, or…His father had called someone, from the hotel line. Or worse. Someone his father called wasn’t really the ally he thought they were. Sam’s stomach churned. Someone his father trusted betrayed him in the first place. Someone they knew had turned Dean over to these men.

He tried to breath through the nausea. It wouldn’t help him to throw up in the hood. He needed to think it through. He had to find a way out of this…hopefully his father had done what he said and took Dean away.

Dean. He was going to see this as abandonment. Sam left him…after promising him. That was worse than anything Razz could do to him. 

They were slowing down. Turning. Stopping. Sam steeled himself for the rough handling he was sure would follow. Doors opened, closed. Air kissed his hands as the door near his head was opened and he was yanked out, falling to the ground. His nose cracked against something hard. He was jerked to his feet and pushed, pulled, and finally thrown.

Big hands caught him and his hands were freed briefly, then he was pressed into a chair, his hands fed through the bars that formed the high back of the chair and re-bound. The hood was pulled free while his ankles were tied to the legs and he looked around trying to get his bearings. A big hand against his cheek encouraged him to keep his attention a little closer to hand. 

In front of him was a big desk. Old, oak and big…designed to intimidate. He flicked his eyes up to the man behind the desk. “My name is Master James. I handle collections and fugitive retrieval for Mr. Gorlian.” He had silver hair, but was in no way older than maybe forty. His suit was white with a navy blue shirt. Impeccable, perfectly tailored. Even his glasses fit the image. “Now, I have been tasked with recovering $90,000 from you…or the recovery of the property you stole.” 

Sam tried to be cool about it. “Ninety? Our deal was for 85.”

“The deal that you failed to keep, Mr. Silvers?” He looked up at Sam briefly, his eyes gray, lined in the darkest blue Sam had ever seen. He had Sam’s wallet, and emptied it out on to the desk, lining up the cards and ids, stacking the bills and setting them aside. “It appears you have an identity problem, Mr. Silvers.” He held up a credit card. “Or is it Mr. Davery? Mr. O’Malley?” He smiled and held up another. “Ah, this must be the one, Mr. Dong Shai.”

“I, ah…found those. Makes my wallet look better…impresses the girls.”

James flicked his gaze over Sam. “As I recall, your taste runs to men, Mr. Winchester.”

Shit. “Okay…so you know my name. Big deal.”

James smiled again, and Sam was really beginning to dislike that expression. “I’ve known your name for some time, Mr. Winchester. When the money for which you paid for your slave disappeared and in it’s place was a pile of paper, Mr. Gorlian showed me the surveillance video. Seeing as I was the one who commissioned the pictures of you at Stanford, I knew your face.”

“You took pictures of me?”

Again the smile. “I see your brother hasn’t remembered everything. That’s good. It means that re-training him won’t take much.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, Mr. Winchester. I guarantee you, I’m not the one who will be getting fucked.” He picked up the gun and knife they’d taken from his boot. “You, on the other hand…I’m told that there’s a pretty price to be had for brothers, and I’m sure Razz here would love to break you the way he did Dean.”

Sam couldn’t keep himself from looking up at the big man beside him. Many of Dean’s nightmares included this man. 

“Now, shall we discuss the issue of the money you owe? As I said, the fee is now $90,000, less the actual money in the briefcase you gave us. That’s $86,450. I trust that these credit cards won’t provide me with that much?”

Sam didn’t respond, just closed his eyes. 

“You will look at me when I am speaking to you Mr. Winchester, or you will be punished.” A hand closed in his hair and pulled on his head. “Tell me, have you ever felt the sting of a cane across your bare back?”

Sam opened his eyes, leveling a glare at the man. “That’s better. Now, if you can not provide me the money that you owe, we will simply collect the merchandise, and take out the difference in your hide.” James stood, smoothing his jacket. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to take his place.” He eyed Sam up and down. “I thought not.”

He moved around the desk. “You can keep him of course, provided you pay for him.” He squinted at Sam. “With cash, I’ve brought along a witch, by the way, so that you can’t trick us again…or with an equal value in merchandise.”

“You’re insane.” Sam said finally. The hand crashed into his face again and Sam grimaced.

“You should check your own grip on sanity, Mr. Winchester. I promise you, my offer of repayment is limited. You have an hour to consider your options. After that, all recourse is null and void. I will repossess the merchandise and you will pay for your deception with your own flesh. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some phone calls to make.” James walked away, raising a cell phone to his ear before turning back. “Oh, and Razz, do remember not to mar the merchandise permanently.” His eyes trained back on Sam’s. “He gets over zealous sometimes. You should see what he did to the poor guy we dressed like you for your brother’s edification.”

Razz’s lips were wet against his ear. “Fucked him bloody, I did. Ripped him up inside before I beat him so his mama wouldn’t know him. You shoulda seen the slave’s face when he saw. Threw up all over himself. He opened his mouth like a good slave after that. Took my cock and sucked it good.”

He came to stand in front of Sam, unzipping his pants and pulling out his limp cock. Sam couldn’t help but stare, he was huge. “Did you know he could open that big? Sight to see…those lips of his, split his bottom lip every time though. Pity I can’t see how you compare just yet. Course, you think about it…maybe you like cock as much as that slave-whore brother of yours.”

Sam forced himself to look away, to breath deep and not rise to the bait. That’s all it was. He wanted Sam to say or do something. Instead he tried to ignore him and come up with a way out of this…a way to come up with the money. He had no doubt that James was the kind of man who didn’t make idle threats.

 

John got back into the station wagon, glancing at Dean who had a death grip on the steering wheel. “Caleb will be here soon. I don’t want to try to go in there without him.”

“Caleb?” Dean asked, his eyes trained on the doors to the building.

“You remember Caleb, right?” 

Dean turned to look at him, his expression a combination of frustration and annoyance. It was his you’re-kidding-right look. “I barely remember entire months out of the last year.”

John couldn’t help himself, he laughed out loud and clapped a hand to Dean’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Dean. But damn, you sounded like yourself.”

Dean smiled and looked away. “Did I?”

“Yeah.”

“Good?”

“Very.”

John looked up as a non-descript older model car pulled up beside them. “Good, Caleb.”

“You trust him?” Dean was back to looking uncertain and John patted his shoulder.

“With my life.”

“Okay.”

“Give me a minute with him.” John got out of the stolen station wagon and leaned into the driver’s side window. “They’re inside. I don’t know how many.” 

“What about Dean?”

John shook his head. “He can’t go in there. It’s a really long story. It’s just you and me.”

“So you said on the phone.” Caleb leaned around John to look at Dean. “Is he going to be okay out here alone?”

“I don’t know.” John admitted. “I’ve given him a gun, in case.”

“Okay, let’s do this thing then.”

 

Sam’s nose was most certainly broken. Blood trickled from one nostril and his left eyes was swollen shut. Razz was certainly good at this part.

“Broken noses show character. Yours was too pretty for market anyway.” Razz was wiping blood from his knuckles. Sam had felt the force of those knuckles on his face, stomach, even his thighs.

So far the only thing broken was his nose. He was under the impression that wouldn’t last. The hour had to be almost up. The door opened and James returned, two other men with him. “You have about another five minutes, Mr. Winchester. At the end of that time you will be stripped, beaten and raped by these men. You will then be transferred to the facility where we will break you down or kill you in the process. Now, for my tastes, I really prefer your stubborn streak continue. I rather enjoy a challenge, and seeing as I was the Master in charge of your brother’s breaking and subsequent training, I am intrigued by what differences might lie in handling you.”

He put his cell phone on the desk and looked Sam over. “I see Razz has been entertaining himself. He’s one of my more…hmmm, enthusiastic trainers.” He smiled and sat, crossing his legs almost daintily. “Trainer is really a misnomer. Our trainers are employed to break our new recruits. They seek out the weaknesses and exploit them…and when that fails, they resort to brute force.”

James removed his glasses and picked up a cloth. He polished them slowly, glancing up at Sam. “Three minutes, Mr. Winchester. Our instructors take over from there. I don’t normally allow my recruits to know this much, in fact they’re generally kept in the dark. I find it helps in the breaking.”

Sam was beginning to panic. The restraints that held him weren’t budging. Nothing indicated there was a rescue working. “Okay…look…I don’t have the money on me, obviously. I can get it. It might take a few hours.”

“You don’t have a few hours, Mr. Winchester.” James slipped his glasses back on and flicked a finger toward him. Razz smiled viciously. “You have thirty seconds.”

 

Dean watched his father and Caleb disappear into what seemed to be a broken down old office building. He knew from experience that the interior probably didn’t match its exterior. He licked his lips. 

He was very alone. It made him uncomfortable. Sam was inside. With the men who…who would hurt him…with the man who hurt Dean…the man who took him and made him…what he was.

Dean looked down at the gun, then up at the building. “Sam.” 

Sam came for him, even after he’d given up. After he believed Sam was dead and gone. Sam came.

Dean lifted the gun. Slowly, he got out of the car, his heart pounding in his chest. His free hand caressed the collar. The weight of the gun was familiar, comfortable. He felt awkward though as he reached the door. He hadn’t done this in a long time. Seeing those men again could prove to shut him down, shove him back into the dark. 

_You are nothing. You are no one. You are alone._

Maybe he was all those things. But Sam wasn’t. Sam was someone…someone that mattered. Sam came for him when no one else would. That was something…something Dean could be strong for.


	7. Nothing, No One, Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...now the men who sold Dean want their money...or their slave back...and they'll settle for both.

John put down a guard with a strong left hook and dragged him out of the corridor. So far he and Caleb had done the same with five others. Caleb beckoned him to the door and he peered inside. Ten cages lined one side of a long room, at least six of them occupied.

“We can’t leave them here.” Caleb whispered.

“We can’t take them with us either.” John whispered back. His eyes scanned the prisoners for sign of Sam, but he wasn’t there. “Where the hell is he?”

“We may not be able to come back for them.”

“Fuck.” John sighed explosively. “You get them out, I’ll go for Sam.”

“You sure?”

John looked at him and shook his head. “What other choice do we have? Keep them quiet, and don’t get caught.”

“You too.”

John stopped him as he started to move into the room. “And…keep an eye on Dean for me, okay?”

Caleb smiled and nodded before moving into the room. John let the door shut behind him. “Okay Sam. Where the hell are you?”

 

“Now, I think that you’re being unreasonable.” Sam said quickly. One of the men was moving behind him and loosening the bindings that held his wrists. “Clearly the best deal for both of us is for you to get the money you came for.”

James smiled. “Clearly, Mr. Winchester, you are stalling. Perhaps you are under the mistaken impression that someone is coming for you. I assure you, this facility is quite secure.”

Sam’s hands were pulled from the chair and rebound behind him again. “I can…” The third man had his left leg loose. “Shit.” He struggled, kicking out with the free foot and landing a solid blow to the man’s face. A huge hand slammed into his face and sent the chair crashing over backwards. Sam yelled as his weight pressed against his bound hands and the chair.

The other leg was free and Sam was hauled to his feet, suddenly face to face with James. “As of this moment, you have no name. As of this moment you have no purpose. You are nothing. You are no one. You are alone. You belong to me. Everything that is about to happen to you is because I wish it to be so.” He held up a knife between them. Very slowly and deliberately he cut down the middle of Sam’s shirt and pushed the sides apart. The men on either side of him held him tight and Razz stood behind him as the knife descended toward his chest. Just as deliberately, James pressed the point of the knife into his skin just above and slightly to the left of his left nipple. He watched Sam’s face as he deftly carved a “J” into his skin. “This is my mark, so everyone will know that you belong to me. So that everyone will know that you are nothing, no one, alone.”

With that James stepped back and turned away. “I have a few new recruits to examine. Do be sure you don’t break any more bones, Razz. I’d hate to have to forfeit your bonus like the last time.”

“Can’t wait to get inside that tight little ass, boy.” Razz said. Sam could feel his hands on the waist of his jeans. He lashed out, kicking and flailing, doubling over and managing to get one hand free. A few seconds of struggling and he was loose, though it only lasted a few steps, then a hand was around the back of his neck. “I like it rough…keep fighting.”

The first shot took everyone by surprise, echoing around the room and Sam threw himself to the ground, rolling free of the tangle of legs and arms as the three men tried to grab him. He didn’t get far, fingers digging into his throat as he was grabbed and turned. Razz had him by the throat, pulling him up against his already hard cock and grinding against him, even as John leveled his gun.

“This must be my lucky day. I get the complete set!” Razz growled. “Come to watch me fuck your boy, old man?” His free hand was shoving down the back of Sam’s jeans and he tried to jerk away, but stopped as fingers crushed against his windpipe.

“I will kill you.” John said. “Let him go and step away.”

“Maybe when I’m done with this little cock-whore, I’ll leave the sloppy leftovers to the boys, and give you a go.”

John took two steps into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. “Let him go, now.” John fired and Sam felt the breeze as the bullet sang past his cheek. He felt hot blood splatter his face and he staggered backwards with Razz.

“Son of a bitch!” Razz’s hand left Sam’s ass and pressed against the bleeding graze on his neck. “What are you two shits waiting for? Take care of him…but don’t hurt him too much…the Master’s going to love this.”

The two men rushed John, another shot rang out before the gun went skittered away, while Razz manhandled Sam over to the desk, using his body weight to bend him over. “Now let’s see about that sweet ass.”

Sam bucked, but Razz out weighed him and was in a stronger position. He tried again, and Razz hit him across the back of the head, where he already had a sizeable knot from when they’d grabbed him. His vision swam and he had to concentrate to avoid passing out.

There was a tearing sound, as Razz ripped the seam out of Sam’s well worn jeans, and then Sam felt hands on the bare skin of his ass. “That’s it boys…bring Daddy over here so he can watch.” Sam looked up as the bigger of the other two men pressed John to his knees beside the desk. His face was bleeding, his lip split. John was breathing heavily and Sam thought he looked like he might pass out. 

No. He wasn’t going to let this happen. He felt Razz positioning himself, felt a finger invading him. “Yeah…sweet little ass you got, slave boy. You gonna squeal for me like your brother did? Or are you gonna beg for it? I like me a pretty boy who begs. You ready for me?”

Sam was hyperventilating, his eyes locked on his father’s. His stomach hurt where he was pressed against the edge of the desk. It was all wrong and so unreal. The finger moved and Razz pulled his cheeks apart, leaning in. Sam felt the touch of his cock and stiffened. 

There was a faint clicking sound.

Razz froze. 

“Sam?” There was a quaver in the voice, a catch in the breath.

“Dean.” His father’s nod confirmed it. 

“Okay Razz…this is where you back off.” Sam said, pushing up. As the weight lifted he stood and turned. Dean had a gun shoved against Razz’s belly, pointed down at the base of his cock. Dean wasn’t looking at Razz though. He was looking at Sam with a mixture of confusion and fear.

“What do you think you’re doing, slave?” Razz asked. Sam could see Dean quavering. 

“Give me the gun Dean.”

“Don’t listen to him, slave. He’s nothing. He’s no one.” Razz reached for Dean, his hand fisting in his hair. “On your knees.”

Before anyone could move, Dean pulled the trigger. Razz screamed, collapsing to the floor. “He’s my Sam.” Dean said, quietly but fiercely. “Now you’re no one.”

“My god, Dean, give me the gun.”

Dean looked frightened as he gave up the gun and Sam tried to sooth him by reaching his free hand out for his brother’s as he trained the gun on the man to his father’s left. “I’m a better shot than my brother, wanna bet whether or not I can blow your dicks off from here, or you gonna back the hell off?” Both men raised their hands and stepped back. John struggled to his feet.

Sam’s eyes flicked briefly to his father’s, then two shots rang out and the two thugs fell to the floor, a bullet through each forehead.

“Sam!”

His hand didn’t shake as he looked at his father, then turned and leveled the gun at Razz who was writhing on the ground. 

“Sam…you’re just going to kill them?”

“They aren’t the first. I’m sure they won’t be the last.” He squeezed the trigger and shot Razz between the eyes. “I told you before, I had to do things you wouldn’t approve of to get Dean. If you can’t deal with that—“

“Sam?” 

He could feel Dean shaking. He moved closer and pressed himself against his brother. “Stay with me Dean. I’m going to get us out of here.”

Sam pulled Dean toward the door, opening it enough to peek through. “Shit.” He closed the door. “The hallway’s full of men, moving prisoners. We can’t go that way.”

He turned back to Dean. “How did you get in, Dean?”

Dean shoulders were hunched forward, his eyes on the floor. “Dean?”

A low, keening sound was coming out of Dean as he rocked forward and Sam released his hand to switch hands with the gun and caress Dean’s face.

“Sam, we’ve got to get out of here.”

“Yeah Dad. Little busy at the moment.” Sam leaned toward Dean and he cringed away. “Come on Dean. We have to go. I need you to stay with me.”

Sam heard the sound of a cell phone dialing and looked up. “Who are you calling?”

John glanced at him and lifted the phone to his ear. “Caleb, he took some prisoners out—“

Sam took a step closer. “Caleb? You called Caleb? Holy fuck, Dad.”

John lowered the phone. “Watch your mouth—“

“How do you think they found us?” Sam asked, stalking toward his father. “How the fuck did they find us here? In fucking Tulsa, Dad?” Sam glanced back at Dean as he moved toward the corner, his hands around his head in obvious distress. 

“Caleb would never—“

“No?” Sam blew out a heavy breath. “Somebody did. Who else did you call?”

“I was trying to help.”

Sam closed his eyes. He had never in his life felt the anger coursing through him at that moment. “Who the fuck did you call?”

John rubbed a hand over his face. “Everyone…I mean…for different things. No one knows…not exactly…but we have to find the top guys, we have to end this.”

Yes, they did. Sam knew that. They had to find out who betrayed them. They had to finish Gorlian for good. Even if another would take his place. “Yes, Dad…but someone you called—“ He stopped, seeing understanding starting to dawn on his father. 

“Not Caleb.” John said after a minute. 

Sam sighed. He tended to agree not Caleb. But he wasn’t really ready to devote thought to blaming the people his father trusted, not when they still needed to get out of there without further traumatizing Dean. Dean. He turned, starting when Dean wasn’t where he had last seen him. “Dean?”

“Shit.” John turned, looking around them. “Where did he go?”

“Dean?”

Sam moved to the only thing that could hide a man, and found Dean huddled under the desk. “Dean, come on out.” He touched Dean’s shoulder and he stiffened, pulling away and hiding his head under his arm. Sam went to one knee, rubbing his hand gently over Dean’s arm. “It’s okay Dean, come on out. Dad and I are going to take care of you.”

“Nothing. No one. Alone. Hurt. Punished.” Dean rocked, ignoring Sam completely.

“He’s gone.” Sam said to his father. Squatting there beside Dean, his backside felt completely exposed. “We’re not going to get him out of here like this.”

“We’ll have to carry him. Let me call Caleb, get a distraction. See if we can clear the hall. I know the way out.”

Sam nodded, pulling off his ruined shirt and tying it around his waist to cover his exposed ass. 

John lifted the phone again, nodding as Caleb picked up. “No, we’ve got Dean. We need a distraction.” He switched ears and moved toward the door. “No, it’s good. Have the car ready.” He hung up and peeked through the door. “The police are on the way. Caleb’s going to see what he can do to rile things up, draw them out.”

Sam nodded, hoping that they could still trust Caleb. His head was swimming. The knot on the back of his head throbbed and the room was starting to spin. He sat down hard. “You okay, Sam?” John asked, moving closer.

“Concussion probably. Keep an eye on the door.” Sam’s hand cupped the swollen spot, trying to gauge the level of injury. His nose throbbed in time with the knot and between them his head hurt intensely. “Shit.”

“Any minute now.” 

As if to prove his point, there was an explosion. John checked the hallway. “Now, they’re all leaving.”

Sam stood, only to fall back to the ground. As John reached for him he shook his head. “Get Dean.” John pushed the desk and scooped Dean up like he was a child, ignoring his startled stiffening and striding quickly to the door. “Sam?”

“Right behind you.” He struggled to his feet and staggered to the door. They’d only gotten a few yards when the world was swimming and Sam was holding the wall to keep from falling. He closed his eyes, hoping to hold off the vertigo, but it only made it worse. He was aware of his father’s hand on his arm amid the dark and stars and swirling colors, but couldn’t bring it into focus. “Get Dean out. Come back.”

“No. We go together.”

“Dad! Just get him out.” Sam fell back against the wall, pushing his back into it to keep from falling down. Dean was beside him, his eyes wide, leaning against the wall. “Dean…go with Dad.”

“My Sam.” Frantic fingers fumbled against Sam’s hand and he was vaguely conscious of holding to them as John tried to assess the damage.

“I’m fine Dad. Just a little woozy.”

“Shit this is a mess Sam.” John said, his fingers pressing against the wound. “You aren’t fine.”

Dean was pressing his face closer trying to see. His fingers brushed over the “J” carved into Sam’s skin. “You take Sam.” He said to John who nodded.

“No.” Sam protested, even as his father lifted his arm up over his shoulder and started moving them down the corridor.

“Shut up Sam.” John said, glancing behind to be sure Dean was coming.

The bullet that ripped through Sam’s side and into the wall was nearly silent, but it dropped John and Sam both to the floor and left Dean alone to turn to face the shooter. Sam got his head up just in time to see Dean start to shake and go to his knees. His eyes tracked up to find James holding a gun on them and fisting his hair in Dean’s hair. “I can see I underestimated you.”

Sam turned over, even as John sat up. James flicked his gaze over John then came back to Sam. “On your knees, boy.”

“I don’t think so.”

His hand tightened and pulled Dean’s head up and back. “Open your mouth, slave.” Dean glanced at Sam, his face white, and slowly complied. James put the gun into it. “I said, on your knees, boy.”

Sam complied, holding his bleeding side. He was rapidly loosing his capacity to function. Beside him he could feel his father seething. James turned his attention to the eldest Winchester. “I suggest you join your sons in submission, Mr. Winchester.”

“Fuck you.” 

James smiled. He pulled the gun from Dean’s mouth and trained it on Sam. “Tell me what you are, slave.”

“Nothing. No one. Alone.” Dean said softly, his eyes on the ground. 

“Who owns you, slave?”

Dean looked up at him with fear in his eyes. “My Sam.”

“Wrong. Your Sam belongs to me slave. Just as you do. You saw my mark on him.”

Dean swallowed. He had seen. He knew. Sam lied. Sam stole. Sam owned his heart…but his body…He bent his head forward, offering his neck. A hand descended on his neck, on the collar. A small sob escaped him as the collar came loose and fell to the floor. Punishment was inevitable now. Punishment and training. 

“Dean, this man doesn’t own you.” His father said it, from beside Sam. “No one owns you.”

The gun rang out, and Sam fell backwards, the shot eating into his other side. Dean bent forward, his face to the floor, squeezing his eyes shut. “Nothing. No one. Good. I’ll be good. Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt Sam.”

“I suggest, Mr. Winchester, for the sake of your boy, that you get on your knees and shut your mouth.” Another shot rang out, but this time it was James’ that pitched forward. John jumped up and grabbed him, throwing him into the nearest wall.

“John?” Caleb came running up the corridor.

“Get Sam.” John said, already moving toward Dean. Dean’s body was rigid, a litany of words pouring from him. “Come on. Dean. We don’t have time.” After a minute of fighting trying to pull Dean upright he cursed and slipped his arms under his knees and around his back, grunting as he lifted him from the floor.

Caleb supported Sam with one arm over his shoulder and Caleb’s hand on Sam’s waist and led them toward the side entrance he’d slipped into. He put Sam in the back of his car and John deposited Dean beside him before climbing into the passenger seat. “Get us out of here.” John dropped his head against the back of the seat.

He had to believe he could salvage this. He had his boys. Sam was hurting, his eyes closed, sweat pinning his hair to his head. Dean had his knees bent up to his chest, his face buried against his legs. Neither of them moved. “Hospital?” Caleb asked and John shook his head. 

“No, Sam would be pissed…and Dean…can’t handle it. What did you tell the police?”

Caleb looked at him funny, then back to the road. “That there were people being held against their will. What’s going on here?”

John closed his eyes. He’d nearly been forced to watch Sam be raped. He’d just watched Sam kill three human beings in cold blood. He’d witnessed Dean on his knees, giving himself up…”Slaves,” he said quietly. “They make them slaves.”

Caleb cursed and nearly drove off the road looking at John. “Is that what’s wrong with Dean? Did they…?”

John nodded. “He was gone so long…and I couldn’t find him…but Sam…Sam found him.” He was tired. Unbelievably tired. “We need a hotel. Need to patch Sam up.”

“Obviously we can’t go back to the one you were at.” Caleb said. “I’ll get you three into a room, then go get your things.”

John nodded. “You got a first aid kit?”

“In the trunk.”

John wasn’t sure where to start. Sam had lapsed into unconsciousness and Dean was catatonic. He didn’t like leaving either of them alone, and he didn’t like leaving either of them with Caleb. Not that he didn’t trust Caleb…it was just that…well, he didn’t know if he could. Not anymore.

Caleb got out of the car and opened the door to the room, propping it open and coming back to help. John opened Dean’s door, hoping he could coax him out and into the room under his own power, but one look told him that was not happening. “Okay, Dean, I’m taking you inside.”

It took him a minute to maneuver Dean out of the car and heft him, but he managed, setting him as gently as possible on one of the beds. “I’ve got to get your brother Dean. Stay here.”

Caleb had Sam out and nearly standing when John got there, ducking under Sam’s other arm and supporting him as they moved him into the room. They laid him out on the second bed and John nodded. “Okay. Get me the first aid kit and I’ll take care of them.” He tossed the key to his room toward Caleb. “Name of the hotel’s on there. I’m in 18. The boys are in 14.” He sighed and fished in Sam’s pocket for the key. “It isn’t here. You’ll have to break in.”

Caleb nodded and headed out for the first aid kit. He tossed it on the bed beside Sam when he came back. “I won’t be long. Get him stable and we’ll take him to Bobby’s. It should be safe enough there.”

John nodded, not really sure if he agreed or not. If Sam was right, and one of his own had betrayed them, there might not be any safe haven left to them. He looked at Dean who hadn’t moved. He was beginning to appreciate the work Sam had done with his brother, no matter what he suspected it entailed. “Bring some food when you come back. It might be a few days before he’s stable enough to move.”

It was few minutes after the door closed behind Caleb before John moved. He got towels and water and moved to Sam’s side. It was possible Dean needed him more, but John just didn’t know how to help him. He stared at his eldest son for a minute as he held himself tightly and stared at the floor. Then, with a sigh, he turned to the youngest and started to clean his wounds.

Twenty minutes later, he had Sam bandaged and shot full of antibiotics and pain reliever. He went to kneel beside Dean, but his hands were shaking and Dean cringed and John could only lower his head and back away. Slowly, he moved to the door, letting himself outside and closing the door before leaning against it.

The sobs came over him, and he slid down the door, burying his face in his hands. He’d always been able to fix his boys…patch them up, toughen them up…something…but they’d never been like this…so broken…so unreachable…He didn’t begin to know how to fix this…and he was beginning to suspect he never would.


	8. Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Caleb got Sam and Dean away, but Dean is lost inside the conditioning, adrift without a Master to hold on to, Sam is hurt and John is slowly cracking open...

_Nothing. No one. Alone._

Dean stared into the corner, at the peeling wallpaper. His knees hurt from kneeling. How long had he been there? It didn’t matter. He knelt, his hands on the back of his neck, covering the bare skin where his collar belonged. But he lost his collar. He was bad. Master took it. Not good enough.

Dean rocked forward, putting his head against the wall. Punishment would come…punishment for leaving…for believing Sam…for hurting Razz. Bad. Bad slave. Master was angry. His left had slipped down from his neck to trace the tiny “J” carved into the skin over his left nipple.

Master had been angry. Master never touched, always sent a trainer. Master said Sam was nothing. Dean shook his head. Sam was something. But Sam was marked. It didn’t make sense. Sam was bad. Sam stole from Master.

On the bed, Sam whimpered, shifting in his drug induced sleep. Dean looked up at him. Sam was hurt. His face was black and blue. Razz did that. Razz had done that to him once. Sam was hurt, shot. Master shot Sam. Master was angry with Sam. Sam hadn’t done what he was supposed to. Sam didn’t obey.

Dean hadn’t wanted to, but couldn’t stop himself. _Always kneel when Master enters a room. Stop what you are doing and kneel_ Sam didn’t. Sam only knelt when Dean was threatened. He could still taste the flat metal taste of the gun. Dean closed his eyes.

_Nothing. No one. Alone._

His head hit the wall and he rocked back and forward again. A dull pain was starting to develop, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. 

_Nothing. No one. Alone._

 

John opened the door, his eyes skimming over Sam, then looked for Dean. The room was already getting dark and it took him a minute to pick Dean out of the gloom. He was in the corner, his head beating against the wall. “Dean?” He moved to stand behind him, his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean, stop.” 

Dean’s only response was to hit himself harder, the sound making John’s stomach churn. “Dean.” John put both hands on his shoulders and pulled, getting him far enough away that he wasn’t hitting the wall anymore. There was blood dripping down his face. “Let’s get you up.” Dean was dead weight on the floor, not moving, but not actively fighting him. John sighed and closed his eyes.

“Dean, get up off the floor and sit on the bed.”

Dean hesitated, and didn’t look up, but slowly did as John told him. John sighed again. It killed him. Hurt in ways he didn’t even begin to understand. He followed Dean and leaned in to examine the wound. “Shit, what were you doing?” He walked to Sam’s bed, coming back with the first aid kit. “I’m going to get this cleaned up. Sit still.”

He focused on the wound, on the knot already growing there under the cut, because seeing his son sitting with his hands in his lap, his eyes on his knees was too much. Too much…and if he let himself see Dean he’d lose it all over again. Dean didn’t move, didn’t flinch as John cleaned the wound, as he pressed a bandage over it…nothing. John sighed yet again. “Dean, you…it’s been a rough day, why don’t you get some sleep?”

Dean didn’t respond and John shook his head as he went to check on Sam. He was concerned about the concussion, more so than the gunshots. Both shots were clean. John stood with his back to Dean, looking down at Sam. He pushed damp, sweaty bangs off Sam’s forehead. He didn’t like to admit it, but they were in over their heads.

Sam stirred, his eyes opening, cloudy and hazed. “Dad?”

John nodded. “It’s okay, Sam. We’re okay for now.”

“Dean?”

“He’s…” John moved so Sam could see Dean still sitting on the bed. “I don’t know.”

“What happened? Was that bastard dead? Where are we?”

“Settle Sam. Caleb shot him. He was…I don’t know. I don’t know if he was dead. I was more concerned with you and Dean. Caleb is cleaning out the old rooms. We’re on the other side of town.”

“We need to get out of here.” Sam started to sit up, then made a face, closing his eyes. “Shit.”

“We will. In the morning. Let’s get you stable first.”

“We can’t…no more help. Someone…someone turned them on to Dean in the first place, Dad. Someone we know. No more.”

John shook his head. “We can’t do this alone Sam. Especially not with you hurt.”

Sam looked at Dean, then back at his father. “What are you thinking?”

John was thinking he wanted everything to just go away and give him his boys back. He was thinking that when he found out who had done this to his beautiful son, he was going to make him pay. He was thinking that a drink sounded really good right then. “Bobby…we’ll go to Bobby’s. It’s safe…you and Dean can rest. Caleb and Bobby and I will hunt them down.”

“Not enough. Too big.” Sam yawned and twitched a little, pain flitting across his face. “Has Dean said anything?”

John shook his head. “I—he banged his head into the wall…he’s just…sitting.”

“His—the collar…did you get it?”

“What?”

“The bastard took it off of him, dropped it on the floor. Did you get it when we left?”

John shook his head. “No. Why?”

“Shit.” Sam forced himself to sitting, wincing. “The collar was a sign…I replaced the one he was wearing when I found him. It was a promise to him, that I’d look out for him, protect him…it was a promise that he was good enough…fuck. Without it…they use it as a fucking reward.”

“A reward?” John stared at Dean, uncomprehending. How could a tool of ownership be seen as a reward?

“After they broke him, he got to earn the right to wear the collar. It meant he learned his lessons, that he was good. God.” He looked up at his father. “Can you…give us a few minutes?”

“You need to rest, Sam.”

“I need to try to figure out what he’s thinking. Just…go for a walk or something.”

Slowly John nodded. “I’ll be just outside.”

As his father left the room, Sam pulled himself gingerly to the edge of the bed and pushed himself up to his feet. “Dean.” Sam shuffled to his brother’s side, touching his shoulder. “Dean look at me.”

Dean’s face turned, but his eyes didn’t lift beyond Sam’s waist. “Dean, I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Dean’s eyes closed. “We’ll replace it, okay? I’ll still…you still…” Sam’s voice broke. “Dean? Please say something.”

He hung his head, his shoulders hunching forward. “Nothing. No one. Alone.”

“No…no Dean. Never again. You’re never alone. I’m here. Right here.”

“Stolen. Not yours.” 

Sam felt his heart stop. His hand shook as he pressed it to Dean’s face. “You’ve always been mine, Dean…long before you were his…remember? Remember…I loved you…and you…you promised me…promised me always…” He was struggling to breathe, half from his wounds and half because Dean probably didn’t remember…and if he didn’t…if he believed…if he believed the bastard Sam didn’t have a prayer of reaching him. 

A tear rolled down Dean’s face. “Master told me I wasn’t yours.” Dean said after a long silence.

Sam groaned and knelt beside Dean. “He’s gone, Dean. He’s never going to touch you again.” Sam couldn’t stop the tears as he took Dean’s hands in his. “Hear me? You don’t belong to him, Dean. You belong here, with me…I want you here with me.” 

He gasped for air as a sob shook him and he laid his head on Dean’s knee. “Please Dean. I need you…I need you to be with me.” Dean pulled his hands away and when Sam looked up, his brother’s face was tight with an emotion he couldn’t read.

“Can’t touch. Can’t. Don’t. Rules.”

“Dean?” 

Dean stood, moving away from Sam and over to the corner between the bed and the bathroom. “No collar. No Master. Not good enough. Bad. Dirty. Nothing. No one. Alone.”

“Sam?” 

Sam looked up from where he still knelt on the floor by the bed, his face wet with tears as John opened the door. “Caleb’s back. Can we come in?”

Sam nodded absently. John’s eyes swept over Dean and back to Sam. “I—he’s worse—he won’t let me touch him.”

John nodded and came into the room, carrying duffle bags while Caleb came in behind him with bags of food. “You should be in bed.”

Sam nodded. “Yes, I know. I had to try.”

“Let me help.” Caleb slipped an arm under his shoulder and helped him up and over to the bed. “I brought food. Are you hungry?”

“See if you can get Dean to eat. He might for you. He doesn’t really remember you.” Sam said as he settled against the pillows.

“He responds better to direct commands right now.” John added as he set the food out on the small table.

Caleb nodded and crossed to Dean. Sam and John watched as Caleb pointedly kept his hands away from Dean. “Dean, come with me.”

Dean didn’t look up, but he turned and as Caleb stepped away, so did Dean. Caleb touched the chair. “Sit here Dean.” As he sat, Sam sighed in relief. “I’ll get you some food.” Caleb glanced at John, then set out to fill a plate with the fried chicken and other food he’d brought. When it was full, he set it in front of Dean. “I want you to eat all of this, Dean.” 

Once Dean was doing as he’d been told, Caleb looked up at John. “Are you going to explain this now? You’ve gotten into some bad shit before, John, but nothing like this.”

John scrubbed both hands over his face and gestured toward Sam. “Let’s let Dean eat in peace.” He and Caleb went to sit on the bed with Sam, their voices lowering. Sam wiped his face and took a deep breath. “He’s been…programmed.” Sam said a little shakily. “I had started to get through to him…but now he’s convinced…” He winced and held his sides. “He’s convinced he’s not mine…that I didn’t buy him…and if I didn’t, then he…he still belongs to those fuckers.”

“Did he say that?” John asked, disbelief in his voice.

“Pretty much.” Sam sighed and looked at Caleb. “I don’t know how much Dad’s told you.”

“Not much. He said something about slaves.” Caleb looked up at John and back at Sam as if he couldn’t believe that.

Sam nodded. “I think someone sent them looking for Dean over a year ago. Someone who knew how hunters think, how we work. They grabbed him, and broke him…convinced him Dad had sold him, that I was dead. Then they trained him. I…when I found him…he was…” Sam took a deep breath. “I bought him from the men who run the market…with money that wasn’t money. As long as Dean thought he belonged to me, we were making progress. He was remembering…he was…getting better…now…”

“Who was the bastard I shot?” Caleb asked softly.

“The man behind Dean’s…education. His….M-master.” Sam choked on the word. “And now, Dean knows I didn’t really buy him…and he won’t let me touch him because that fucking bastard told him…and the rules…and…” Sam’s closed his eyes and bent forward. 

“Sam?” John’s hand was on his arm and Sam shook his head.

“Hurts…my stomach.”

“Let me see.” John pushed him back. Blood was seeping through the bandage on his right side. “Okay…lay down. Let me take care of it.”

“I need to take care of Dean.”

“You need to do what I tell you. You’re hurt pretty bad and if it weren’t for Dean I would have dragged your ass into an ER. I still will if you fight me.” John poked and prodded at the wound, then redressed it. “I’m giving you more pain killers.”

“I don’t want them.” 

John filled the syringe and tapped out the air bubbles. “I don’t remember asking you what you wanted.” Before Sam could move, John shoved the needle into his arm. 

“Fuck you, Dad.”

“You too Sammy.” John said with a sad sort of smile as Sam’s eyes drooped and the drugs pulled him into sleep. He sighed and looked to Caleb. “I want to sedate Dean too, and get on the road by midnight. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

Caleb nodded. “What about the truck and the Impala?”

John sighed. “We don’t know how they found us, so…as much as it pains me, we leave them. I’ll get Sam dressed, you deal with Dean.”

“You really should sleep some.”

“I can sleep on the road.” John said. 

“Eat then?” Caleb said, his face showing his concern. “I’m here to help John…but if I have to take care of you on top of the two of them, we’re not going to get very far.”

John bit off a curse, because he knew Caleb was right, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they needed to run…run fast and run far. “Yeah, okay.”

 

Dean woke in the dark. He was disoriented. Sitting up. Voices, soft and indistinct. Warm. There was a body next to his. He didn’t move, afraid to let anyone know he was awake. They were moving. The last thing he remembered was eating. The man with his father had talked to him. Told him to eat. Caleb. His father called him Caleb. 

One of the voices was his father. The other wasn’t Sam. It must be Caleb. Sam must be beside him. A quick glance confirmed that. It was dark outside the windows. He had to relieve himself. He needed to clean himself and prepare himself. He had to show that he was good enough, that he could be—He stopped himself. There was no one to show. Master was gone.

He must have made some noise, because the voices stopped and John was looking at him. “Dean? You okay?”

Dean nodded. “I need to…please, may I relieve myself, sir?” Sir. Not Master, but sir. He needed that at least. John’s face looked strained but he nodded and Dean felt the car slowing. 

“It’s a long way to the nearest bathroom, so the side of the road will have to do.”

Dean nodded, and John got out of the car to open the back door. Dean slipped out and took a few steps. “Don’t go too far Dean. It’s pretty dark.”

Dean stopped and unzipped. It was difficult. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. There should be a bathroom with a shower, water hot enough to burn off the bad, filthy, not-worthy from his skin so that he could present himself. There should be a razor to take the hair from his face. Finally the need to pee over-rode his need for the rest and he swallowed the panic. When he was done he tucked himself back into his pants before realizing he was forgetting rules. He should be naked. He started pulling his jeans down, and got one foot out of them before John had a hold on him.

“Not now, Dean.”

Dean screamed and pulled away, turning and tripping over the puddle of denim at his feet…landing in the gravel on his hands. “Shit. Stay there Caleb. Dean…” John squatted beside him. “Let me see.”

Dean was shaking as John took one hand and then the other, brushing his finger over the scrapes and gravel imbedded in the skin. “Dad?” Dean’s voice quavered.

“It’s okay Dean. It doesn’t seem bad. I’ll have to look in the light.”

Dean heaved a sigh into the dark. “I’m sorry. I can be good. I know I can.”

John’s hand skimmed over his face. “I know, Dean. You are good.”

“No.” He held his hands up. “Damaged. I just…I don’t know…who…everything’s wrong. There’s no water. I can’t clean myself properly and then…I don’t know who…when I’m ready…who?”

John’s face was close, very close. “What are you asking Dean?”

“Who is my owner now?” He bit off his sob, and couldn’t look at his father. “I need…someone…please…he took away my Sam…said my Sam was his…and what am I then? He took the collar…the collar made me Sam’s. I don’t have anyone. I’m nothing. No one. Alone.”

His father groaned, as if he was in pain and he took Dean’s hands in his. “No Dean. You aren’t nothing. You aren’t alone. You have me. You have Sam. You don’t have to believe anything that man said.”

“Am I yours?” Dean asked, a small hope in his voice.

“You have always been mine, Dean.” John said, choking back a sob. “You’re my son.”

“I can be good. I can be. I’ll be good for you.”

John nodded. “I know Dean. Let’s start by getting up and getting back in the car. You can go back to sleep, and the next time you wake up, I promise there will be a shower and everything you need. Okay?”

Dean nodded and let his father help him up. “Yours.”

John pulled him into a hug and Dean relaxed a little. They walked back to the car and Dean got into the back beside Sam. John kissed his forehead. “Sleep Dean.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean responded, his eyes already closed. John shut the door and leaned against it for a minute. He was shaking and his face was hot with tears. 

He took a few deep breaths, but they only served to rile up his stomach further. He staggered away from the car and retched, falling to his knees as he threw up everything he’d eaten and kept heaving even after his stomach was empty. “John?”

He nodded as Caleb put out a hand to help him to his feet. “I’m…” He’d started to say okay, but he was far from that. “Let’s just drive. Just…get us to Bobby’s Caleb. Okay?”

Caleb nodded. “Yeah John. Okay.”


	9. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters arrive at Bobby's with Caleb and everything continues to unravel...

It wasn’t quite dawn when Caleb guided the car into Bobby’s yard. All three Winchesters were sleeping. Caleb sighed as John stirred beside him. “We’re here,” he said softly.

John stretched and glanced behind him at his boys, before turning to stare at the house. Truth was, he still didn’t know if he could trust anyone. Truth was, he was scared to find out. But no one was going to stroll onto Bobby’s property without them knowing about it…between the dog and the protection spells John himself had helped Bobby set years before.

He got out of the car and hesitated. Bobby was usually up with the dawn, unless he’d been out the night before. John shook his head and went to the door, knocking before he could lose his nerve. When Bobby opened the door a few minutes later, his eyes narrowed, then swept over Caleb standing next to the car. “John?”

“We need…the boys are…damn it, Bobby, I need your help.”

“What’s wrong with the boys?” Bobby pushed past him and out to the car. 

“It’s a long story, Bobby. Sam’s been shot, Dean…” John cleared his throat. “It doesn’t matter. We need someplace to crash while they get back on their feet.”

“Yeah,…yeah…come on, I’ll help you get them inside.”

“Help Caleb with Sammy. I can managed Dean.” John said. He watched a minute while Caleb and Bobby got Sam out of the car and headed for the house. He turned to Dean and sighed. Dean’s eyes fluttered open and John jumped.

“We’re here.” John said, knowing that wouldn’t mean much to his son. “Out of the car.” 

Dean kept his head bowed, his hands in front of him as he climbed out. John didn’t know what to say or do beyond telling Dean to go inside, show him to a room. Then what? How was he going to explain all of this? “Come on, Dean. I’ll show you where the bathroom is.” He promised him that much…and if it would ease the stress and anxiety on Dean’s face, then it was worth something. 

They passed the room where Caleb was checking Sam’s wounds with Bobby hovering nearby, and into the room that was generally John’s when he stayed here. It was a guest room with it’s own private bathroom. It wasn’t much of a bathroom, but it had a shower and Bobby kept the cabinet stocked with clean toothbrushes and razors and other necessities. 

John fetched some towels from the hall closet on his way into the room and set them on the sink. “Here you go, Son. Everything you need is here. I’m going to check on Sam and talk to Bobby. I’ll come back to see you after your done, okay?”

“I’ll be ready for you, sir.” Dean said.

John sighed and tugged a hand through his hair. “Yeah, okay.” He left the room then, with Dean removing his clothes and went to check on his other son.

Sam was awake, he could tell that from the door. Bobby stopped him, dragging him back into the hall. “That’s a bit more than shot.”

John had never felt so tired. “It’s an incredibly long story, Bobby.”

“That’s what Caleb said. Also said that I should hear it from you.”

“You will. I promise. Right now, I need to see to Sam. It’s been a long night.”

Bobby nodded. “I just want to know what I can expect to come chasing up your tailpipe.”

John shrugged. “Human, mostly. Sam said that there were…other things, but all I’ve seen so far have been human.”

Bobby nodded again. “Okay. I’ll go put coffee on.”

John watched him go and sighed heavily before pushing into the room with Sam and Caleb. “Dad. Where’s Dean?”

“You’re barely conscious and that’s the first thing you ask?”

“Dad.” Somehow he managed to sound threatening, even though his face was white with dark sunken circles under his eyes and a cold sweat slicked over his face.

“He’s…in the shower. He had a fit on the side of the road last night because there wasn’t any water."

Sam nodded. “It’s a huge part of the conditioning. Whenever he wakes up, he’s supposed to…I’m not sure…he’s got a whole ritual he goes through. If he doesn’t he can’t function.”

Caleb stood and stretched. “I think this is where I’ll leave you two and go get Bobby up to speed.”

John stood too, reaching out a hand for Caleb’s. “I don’t know how to thank you Caleb.” 

Caleb pulled him into a hug. “No need. It’s what friends are for.”

“Dad…how is he? Dean I mean.” Sam asked when Caleb was gone. “He was so…I couldn’t touch him. He…” Sam closed his eyes. “I don’t know if he’ll let me help him anymore.”

John nodded, pacing around the bed. “I—how do I answer that Sam? My son is…broken…he’s…he _needs_ someone to tell him he belongs…to belong to someone. Shit Sam. I don’t know how you dealt with it.”

Sam stiffened and sat up a little. “Dad? Did you…does he…does he think you own him now?”

“I had to tell him something Sam. He was completely freaking out. I didn’t actually say it…told him he had always been mine, my son.”

Sam exhaled loudly. “Shit. Are you ready for what this means?”

John stopped his pacing and turned back to Sam. “What do you mean?”

Sam looked away and tried to adjust himself on the bed. He hurt, his head throbbed, his nose was better now that Caleb had taped it down…but the wound on his right side was still oozing…and just thinking about how his father would react…”He’s going to expect you to…use him.”

Sam swallowed and tried not to picture Dean kneeling on the bed for inspection, his hands holding his ass open…the faint glistening of lube. “Especially after the morning ritual. When you go back to him, he’ll be waiting for you to inspect him, make sure that he did a good job preparing himself.”

“Stop.” John turned away. “I can’t hear this.”

“You have to. You have to be prepared, or you’re going to do more damage than good.”

“I’m not…I’m not inspecting him, Sam…like he’s some fucking animal?”

Sam nodded slowly. “Exactly. That’s what they’ve trained him to think he is, Dad. Right now his entire self worth is wrapped up in pleasing his owner…his master. And you’ve let him think that you are his owner. So, he’s going to need to please you.”

“Fuck!” John walked to the window, staring out at the yard of cars and car parts and remnants of metal monsters. “What…what do I do, Sam?”

“Be gentle, but firm. He won’t understand you not wanting to use him…It’s going to confuse him. Find things he can do.” Sam swallowed hard against a sudden jealousy, a fear that he’d lose Dean…that he’d lost him already to their father. “Things that aren’t…you know…sexual. It…placates him.” He cleared his throat. “But he’s…sneaky….he’ll try…he’ll…shit.” Sam grimaced and held his side. “He’ll keep trying.”

John was at his side, pulling his hands aside. “Sam, you’ve got it bleeding again. You really need to lay down. I’m going to have to stitch it. Lay still. I’ll be back with the med kit.”

 

Dean took extra care with his shaving, lest he damage himself further. He was already due punishment for the gravel he’d had to pick out of his hands. He didn’t want to risk more…especially not knowing how his father…his…owner…He blinked at himself in the mirror. It felt wrong. Something…just wasn’t right. He swallowed and blinked and went back to finishing his task. Concentration was important. He had to be good. Had to make it right.

He finished shaving and washed his face, checking for nicks. He combed his hair. His hands hurt, but he ignored them. He’d taken far too long getting clean and ready. He needed to finish. Needed to prepare. He’d found an old tube of lube in the nightstand and set it out, waiting for him. He walked into the bedroom, smoothed the comforter so that there were no remaining wrinkles. He walked around the room, tidying little things, before returning to the nightstand.

He squeezed out a small amount of lube and worked it into his fingers. No messes, just enough to make it easier. He leaned over, one hand on the night stand while the other moved against his ass, pushing inside. Two fingers. It had been a while since Sam had touched him there…not that he was tight…not anymore. Still, he pushed his fingers in and moved them around, opened them, spread them, loosening himself up. 

He heard footsteps and looked up. His breath quickened. He moved to the end of the bed and knelt on the floor, head down, hands in his lap. The door opened and he heard his father gasp, then close the door.

“Dean, I don’t…I don’t want you to kneel.”

Dean closed his eyes, his heart clenching. His father didn’t want him. “Stand up Dean.”

Dean stood, keeping his head down. “I am ready for you. I’m clean. I was careful. I was good. Please.”

John came a little closer. “I’m sure you did good, Dean.”

“Please, let me show you.”

“Dean…” John didn’t touch him. Dean got the impression he wasn’t even looking at him. “You…you should put some…clothes on. I’ll go get your bag.”

“Dad? Please.” It was wrong, to speak out like that, but if he left the room, Dean wasn’t sure what he would do. “Please….I need…to…I’m not sure what to do.”

“To tell the truth, Dean, I don’t know what to do either.”

“I—I could…I mean, I’m ready to…” Dean bit his lip and turned so his back was to his father. “If I’m yours…I need to please you. May I?” He put one knee up on the bed and bent forward, exposing himself. “May I please you?”

Silence hung in the room and Dean closed his eyes. He almost started when he felt a hand on his bare back, almost. _Never flinch_

“You are my son, Dean. My son. Do you understand?” John’s voice quavered a little.

It felt like he was being rejected…like he was being denied. “I love you, Dean. I-I want you to know I really do.”

Dean swallowed the sob. “I’m not good enough? I tried. I’ll try harder.” He could do better. He wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but he could be better.

“No Dean. You did real good. I’m proud of you. Here, sit down.” John’s hand on his shoulder turned him and Dean sat on the bed. “I…I have something I need you to do, okay? Because you did real good. Just hold on.” John crossed to the door and opened it, calling down the hall. “Caleb? Did you bring the bags in?”

Dean couldn’t see into the hallway, but he heard voices and when John stepped back into the room and closed the door, he had the small duffle bag Sam had given to Dean. “Pay attention Dean, okay? I want you to get dressed.” 

“Is this like Sam’s rule?”

John blinked at him. “Sam’s rule?”

Dean nodded. “Sam gave me rules. Are you going to give me rules?”

John looked sick as he turned away. “What…what rules?”

Dean was uncomfortable, but he tried not to fidget. “He told me I had to always wear at least underwear…unless he told me something else.” 

John nodded. “Yes, that will be our rule. I prefer you wear more though…I want you to wear what you want, Dean. Unless I tell you otherwise. Can we do that?”

“You want me to choose?” Dean felt a sense of wonder at the thought, his hand brushing over the bag. 

John smiled at him and nodded. “Yeah, Dean. You choose. Okay?”

Dean nodded. “I’m going to wait in the hallway Dean. You get dressed and come out there, okay?”

Dean’s hand hovered over the bag. He didn’t have much to choose from, but he had to choose right. He opened it and carefully pulled out the pair of sweatpants that were really too big for him and the two pairs of jeans Sam had bought for him. There were three t-shirts, one gray, one blue, one white…and boxers. He laid them all out on the bed.

He chose a pair of boxers first, pulling them on carefully. The jeans were harder…he wasn’t sure why. Finally he picked the darker of the two and pulled them on. Last was the shirt, the gray shirt. He pulled it over his head and settled it down over his naked chest. He took a deep breath as he zipped up the jeans and turned for the door. He opened it and John jumped. 

“Is it okay?” Dean asked and he was relieved with his father smiled.

“Yes Dean, it’s good.” John closed his eyes and Dean though he looked tired. “Come on.” He took Dean’s wrist and led him down the hall and opened the door to Sam’s room. Dean’s breath caught as he saw Sam. He was white and sweaty and it gnawed into Dean’s stomach.

“Dean, I have to go downstairs and talk to Bobby. I have to get some sleep. I need someone to keep an eye on Sam. Do you think you could do that?”

Dean looked at his father. “You…want me to…take care of him?” Sam had tried to take care of him. Sam had come for him. “I don’t know if I can.”

John clapped a hand to his shoulder. “I know you can. He’s going to sleep for a while, because I gave him some medicine. I need you to sit with him. Keep him company.”

Dean nodded. He could do that. John pulled back the blanket. “Check his bandages for bleeding. If you see blood, come get me or Caleb.” Dean nodded again. “If he wakes up and is in pain, come get us too.” John smiled at Dean and took his hand. “Can you do that for me Dean? It would make me very happy.”

“I can. I’ll take care of him. I’ll be good for you.”

 

John left his two sons in the room and went down the narrow staircase of the old house, getting to the bottom before he started to fall apart. He sat down heavily three steps from the bottom, burying his face in his hands. The sight of Dean bent over, expecting…Sam had warned him… but nothing would have prepared him for that. It made all the rest…it filled his head with images of those men and Dean.

It was too much. And Sam had…John swallowed. He didn’t want to think about what Sam may or may not have done.

“John?” 

He looked up. “Yeah, Bobby.”

“Hungry? I got breakfast.”

“I don’t think I can eat. But coffee would be good.”

He followed his friend into the kitchen where Caleb was already cradling a cup of coffee. “Caleb gave me the overview.” Bobby said as he poured a cup of dark coffee and handed it to John. “Do you really think someone you know set you up?”

John sighed and sank onto a chair beside Caleb. “I don’t know. Sam does.” And Sam knew so much more about this than he did. “What about what I called you about? Did you find anything?”

Bobby nodded. “The Gorlian brothers. Three of them. Got property in four states, warehouses, a ranch, offices.”

“New York? Rochester?” John asked and Bobby nodded. “That’s where Sam found him.” He held the coffee cup to his face, feeling the warmth as the steam rose over his lips. It felt surprisingly comforting. “I’ve never…wanted to kill someone more. If…when I find out who did this, I’m going to tear him apart.”

“Let us work on finding them, John.” Bobby said. “From the looks of things, your boys need you.”

John’s jaw tightened. “No one can know we’re here, Bobby. If Sam’s right…if they found us in Tulsa because I was calling contacts…wait. It has to be someone I called.”

He got up and went to his bag sitting by the stairs. He pulled out his journal. “There’s about 6 people, other than the two of you.” It wasn’t lost on him that he could still be sitting with the one who betrayed him…that one of these two could be just waiting for the right time to tear his world apart again. “Pastor Jim. Ellen. Joshua.” He put the journal down on the table, opened to the page he’d started notes on. 

“You called Ellen?” Bobby asked, surprise coloring his voice. “Now I know it’s serious.”

John made a face. “She has more contacts…she knows more hunters. We’re going to need…” His hands were shaking as he raised his cup. “It’s too big…and they’re taking hunters…”

“Easy, John. I’m sure Ellen will help.”

“I’m not.” John said. “She wasn’t very happy to hear from me.”

“She still blames you.”

John nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah.”

“You don’t think she—“ Caleb stopped and shook his head. “No, she’s angry…but she’s not the kind to…she wouldn’t sell you out like that.”

“That’s just it, Caleb. No one on this list is someone I would expect to sell us out. I trust these people with my life. With the lives of my boys. We may not be friends…but I trust them.” He put the coffee down and pushed his hands through his hair. “Fuck, I’m tired.”

Bobby pulled the journal to him. “You and Caleb get some sleep. Caleb, you can use Robert’s old room at the end of the hall. I’ll make some discreet calls, gather some information.” John opened his mouth and Bobby held up his hand. “No one will know you’re here John. You and your boys are safe here. I promise you.”

 

“Dean?” 

He turned from the window, then crossed to the bed. “I’m supposed to take care of you.” Dean said. 

“I’m okay.” Sam didn’t look okay, but Dean knew better than to say that. “Where’s Dad?”

Dean shifted a little uncomfortably. “Sleeping. He was very tired. I think…I think I made him unhappy.”

Sam shook his head. “No Dean. I’m sure he’s very happy with you. Just like I am. You saved us, you know?”

“Me?” Dean moved the blanket to check the bandages. “No blood. No blood is good.” He nodded and put the blankets back. “He told me to check.”

Sam smiled at him. “Yes, Dean. When you shot that bastard, you saved us. He was going to hurt me, but you stopped him. Just like you always do. You’re a good big brother.”

“I hurt him…so he couldn’t…” Dean closed his eyes. He could feel the gun in his hand, feel the recoil. It had felt so good…and terrifying. “I hurt him. Master would punish me if he knew.”

“He deserved worse, Dean…after everything he did to you.”

Dean nodded, though he wasn’t sure he believed it. Everything was so mixed up…so confusing. Dean toyed with the blanket under his hand. “Are you in pain? He told me to get him if you were, so he could give you more medicine.”

“No, I’m good.” 

“Can I ask you something?” Dean didn’t look at him.

“Yes, Dean.”

“Am I…ugly?”

“What?” The tone of his voice made Dean wince.

“You…didn’t want me to…please you. He won’t let me either. I don’t…understand.” He turned to lean against the bed. “I try to be good. I try to do what I’m supposed to. He cried.”

“He what?”

Dean hung his head. “Last night. I was supposed to be asleep. He cried. I heard him.” It was all a jumble. The sobbing from the front seat, the memories of Sam as a child…of his father telling him to take care of his brother, the rules, the need to please. “He told me to pick my clothes. Said I was his. I was yours. I lost the collar. I lost you. I wanted it to be you Sam. You know, you understand.” He looked up, realizing he’d said that out loud. “I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to want. Not supposed to talk like that.”

Sam sat up, his hand sliding over Dean’s. “It’s okay Dean. It’s okay. I’m not lost. I’m right here. I just…I’m not able to take care of you right now.” He swallowed as Dean’s hand clenched under his. “You aren’t ugly and you aren’t bad. You’re beautiful,…my beautiful brother Dean. I am so incredibly proud of you.”

“He said I’d always been his. You told me that too. I think you mean it different than he does.” It was slowly starting to make sense. “You kissed me. You let me touch you.” His fingers brushed his lips. “We kissed before I…went away…before you left for school.”

Sam nodded. “Yes, we did.”

“He doesn’t know.” Dean had vague memories of frantic touching and bodies sliding together on twin beds that were too small for one of them…of late night groping in the back of the impala. “It was wrong.”

“No…” Sam reached for his face, but he pulled away.

“No touching.” Dean went back to the window, his back to Sam.

“Dean, I don’t want you to be angry.”

“Not angry.” He wasn’t, he was lost, confused. His memory was flooding him with emotions and images and it was dizzying. “It made me sick…you left me and I was sick…inside…I knew it was wrong…hid it from him…but I wanted you…all that time I wanted you…wanted him to be you…then it was you and you wanted me too…and now…it’s wrong again and I don’t know what to do…because I still want it to be you.”

Sam slipped out of bed, despite the pain and dizziness. He crossed to the window to stand beside him. “I have always wanted you Dean…and I always will. I gave myself to you when I was fifteen. Do you remember?” He let one hand touch Dean’s back. “I wanted it to be you too…when I thought…when he held me down…before you saved me. I wanted it to be you.” 

Dean’s eyes were wide with wonder as he looked at Sam. “Mine? You…”

Sam nodded, meeting those eyes with his own. “Is that okay? Can I be?” He sank to his knees, holding Dean’s hand and kissing it gently. “Please Dean?”

Very solemnly, Dean nodded, his free hand brushing through Sam’s hair. “I’ll be good to you, Sammy. I’ll take care of you.”

Sam blinked back the tears and pressed his lips to Dean’s hand. “I know you will, Dean. I know.”


	10. Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes care of his Sammy. Sam finally comes clean about the things he had to do to find Dean, and the Hunters prepare for war...

Bobby got up to pour more coffee, stretching out his back as he reached for the pot. On the table behind him a timeline was started, based on John’s notes and the details Caleb had provided him. A map of the US covered the window behind the table, black dots marking known holdings of the Gorlian brothers. 

He’d already just about exhausted his contacts getting what information they had. There wasn’t much. Aside from business holdings, the Gorlian brothers might not even exist. Every indication was that they were clean. Pristine. Far too clean to be real. 

Now that he knew what they were looking for, he might be able to get closer. He couldn’t believe it though. The Dean Winchester he knew, the one who’d held his own against Robert, even at twelve, when Robert was seventeen, wouldn’t break easily…not so completely as Caleb had said he was. 

There had been friendly competition between the boys right from the start, when Robert showed up on Bobby’s doorstep unexpectedly one day to find the ten year old Dean bent under the hood of a classic car with Bobby.

Bobby sat back down at the table, holding the cup to his lips to sip at. His boy was nothing like John’s boys. His mother had raised him city soft, no notion of hard work, no survival skills, and Bobby’s one regret was that he hadn’t insisted just a little more that Robert be allowed to spend more time with him. 

He heard the sound of footsteps and looked up, slightly shocked by Dean’s appearance. “Hello Dean.”

Dean didn’t look at him. “My father?”

“I think he’s sleeping.”

“Caleb?”

Bobby nodded. “Him too.” 

Dean shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I remember this place. We used to come here.”

“Yes, you and Sammy came here sometimes.”

He watched Dean fidget, his eyes darting around the cluttered kitchen, over the table with its scattered materials and notes. “Hunt?” Dean asked, his eyes meeting Bobby’s briefly.

“Yep. Helping your Dad out.”

Dean nodded. “He’s hunting the men who…took me.” 

“We all are, Dean. We’ll find them and make it so they can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

“He told me to take care of Sam.”

“Does Sam need something?”

Dean shuffled a little closer. “He should eat. He hasn’t eaten. He always makes sure I eat.”

“I could make lunch for both you and Sam and bring it up to you.”

Dean nodded. “That would be good. He’ll be happy.”

Bobby looked at him a little odd at the words, not sure which “he” Dean meant. “Stew okay? Got some leftover.”

Dean looked puzzled, then nodded. “I’m sure whatever you have will be fine. Thank you.”

“Okay, I’ll bring it up in a little bit.”

“I’ll go be with Sam. Dad told me to take care of him.”

Bobby watched him go, bare feet slipping noiselessly over hardwood floors. Dean never used to be barefoot, always prepared to go whenever he was here, ready to leave as soon as John came back from wherever he’d run off to. Grunting, Bobby got up and fished the bowl of stew out of the refrigerator and tossed it into a pan to warm it up. 

While it cooked, he dug around in the cupboard for the tray he used to use to serve the boys their late night snacks that he never told John about. After they’d gotten themselves to bed he’d dish up three bowls of ice cream and he would sit with them in the big bed they shared in the room where Sam now lay. He smiled at the memory, the little conspiracy between them as they shared a few minutes, telling stories and eating ice cream. It was almost like having his son with him.

Of course, they were grown men now…and wouldn’t want an old man like him hanging out with them. He poured two glasses of milk and set them on the tray, then went back for the stew, stirring it through and testing the temperature before spooning it into bowls. 

Dean opened the door as he got to the top of the stairs and Bobby carried the tray into the room. Sam was sitting up against a pile of pillows, his face pale, but a smile on his face. “Hey Bobby.”

“Sam, good to see you feeling better.”

“Just a couple of gun shots, you know. I’ll be fine.”

“Always were tough as nails, you boys. Dean here said you needed to eat, so I brought you some stew.” He set the tray on the bed. “You need any pain meds?”

Sam shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Okay. I’m downstairs, if you need anything.”

Sam waited until Dean had closed the door, then offered his brother a tentative smile. “Thank you.”

“You need to eat. You need your strength.”

Sam nodded. Dean was still by the door, and Sam could see some uncertainty in his fidgeting. He had to tread carefully now. “May I?” he asked, indicating the tray.

Dean nodded and came closer. “Do you need…help?”

“I think I can manage. Would you…sit with me?”

Dean came to the end of the bed, sitting tentatively. “He would want me to eat too.” It was almost a question. 

Sam nodded in agreement. “I’m sure he would.”

Dean crossed his legs and lifted the second bowl. “You need to eat it all. You need strength to heal.”

“I will.” Sam smiled to himself, grateful that Dean had reacted the way he had to the whole idea. If Dean felt responsible for Sam, it might just pull him along…help him remember what they had been once…and maybe Sam could get through all that conditioning and find his brother again.

 

It was late afternoon when John emerged from his room, rested and showered. He opened the door to Sam’s room and Dean looked up from the end of the bed. He scrambled to his feet and John smiled for him.

“He’s asleep. I made sure he ate. I ate too. Some stew he made for us. Bobby I mean.”

“That’s good Dean.” 

“Caleb came in and gave him more medicine. He didn’t want it, but I told him he needed it. He took it for me.”

“Very good. How are his wounds?”

“No bleeding, sir. I checked.”

John crossed the room, sitting on the bedside to do his own checking. The stitches had held and there was no more bleeding. “Looks real good. I’m sure Sam will be up and on his feet before long.” Sam stirred, but didn’t open his eyes and John sighed. “You did real good, Dean. How are you feeling?”

Dean looked up, seemingly surprised by the question. “I’m fine. Can I…is there something more I can do?”

“Are you tired?”

“No, sir.”

John nodded. “We need to start getting you back in shape. I want you to go outside and walk around the yard. Don’t leave the property.”

“Outside? Who will take care of Sam?”

John smiled. “I’m here, Dean. I’ll take care of him. You go on. You might want to put your shoes on though…Bobby’s yard is full of dangerous bits of metal. I want you to walk until I call you in, okay? Good exercise and some sun on your face.”

Dean looked a little confused, but nodded. “Yes sir.”

When the door was shut behind him John sighed again. “You can open your eyes, he’s gone.” 

Sam blinked and shifted a little. “Never could fool you.” He pushed up to near sitting. “His attention gets a little intense these days.”

“Yeah. I see that. How’re you really?”

Sam shrugged. “I got shot. I’m sore, but I’ll be okay. What about you?”

John exhaled slowly and rubbed both hands over his face. “You…weren’t kidding…I don’t…shit, Sam. I know you warned me, but I wasn’t ready for that. He just…”

Sam stopped him with a touch on his arm. “I know. But you gave him something. It helped.”

“I figured it would help…maybe remind him.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I think it did. He’s starting to understand a little I think. He’ll still try, until you make it firm exactly what your relationship with him will be. He’ll accept it, because he thinks of you as his owner. He won’t necessarily understand it…but he’ll accept it.”

They were quiet for a minute, then John took his hand. “Sam…I need to know.”

Sam shook his head. “No, you don’t.”

“That’s pretty much an admission.” 

Sam looked up at him, looked him in the eye. “I love Dean, Dad. That should be the only admission that means anything.”

“I watched you kill three human beings in cold blood Sam. You told me they weren’t the first, that you did…other things. I need to know how bad. We need to find these bastards and I need to know how dirty things need to get to do it.” He looked away. “I don’t need to…don’t want to know about anything…you and Dean…anything you’ve done with Dean.” 

Sam flushed as he realized what his father was saying…what it meant his father knew. Sam pulled his hand back and crossed his arms. “Have you decided to trust Caleb and Bobby?”

John nodded. “Yes. I think they would have shown their hand by now if it was one of them.”

“Then get them up here. I don’t want to tell this story more than once.”

Nearly an hour later, Sam had spilled the sordid tale, confessed some of his darkest secrets, darker even than the secret of what he’d shared with Dean since he was fifteen. All told, he’d killed seven men, including the three his father had watched him kill. Summoned, and made deals with demons, plural…more than one. 

He’d gotten the name of the brothel in New Mexico through an interrogation of a driver who transported slaves…and the man hadn’t been very forthcoming with the information. When he’d finally wrung it out of him, Sam had left him to die, chained to a pipe in a sewer. 

He’d developed the Silvers personae with the help of a few rich friends from school and a witch who flirted with darker magic. Of course, he’d done his own charm work too. The glamour was a fairly dark spell; he’d had to spill blood to make it last more than a few hours. 

“There’s the underground, then there’s the sub-underground, where most demon-pacts and dark magic practitioners operate. Then there’s the level these people are on.” 

Sam lifted a notebook from the duffle bag John had brought to him and flipped it open. “The Gorlians aren’t even the top. They’re the front men. I never got the names of the people above them. Terrance Gorlian is the man I dealt with. He handles the base operation, sub-contracts out the units, employs the salespeople. He takes a personal interest in specific cases…slaves who were difficult to…acquire, or break…people who are or were well known. People like Dean.”

Bobby leaned over, examining Sam’s notes. “The other two are Allen, and Martin.”

“They can’t all be hunters. We’d have heard about it before now.” Caleb said and Sam nodded.

“Yeah…some of them are half-breeds, part demon. Some looked like they’re just…average people. Runaways maybe…mostly young. But really, hunters disappear all the time, Caleb. We always assume some nasty thing got them…maybe the Gorlians are the nasty.”

Sam rubbed his hands over his face and tried to concentrate. It was hard when he was tired and his body ached. He hated being wounded. It made him weak. “I heard rumors that there are other kinds of slaves, assassins, but the the ones I found deal primarily with…” Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Primarily with the ones trained for sex.”

John made some distressed sound and Sam sighed. “They’ll have moved the market where I found Dean. Probably most of the other shit too.” Sam said. “Neither the market or the brothel were owned by Gorlian. The warehouse where the market was had about ten layers of dummy corporations and subsidiary companies protecting the real owner.”

He glanced at his father who had been quiet since he started talking. “I was more concerned with finding Dean, than hunting down the organization.”

John patted his hand absently. “It’s okay. You did the right thing.”

“This is everything. All the names, all the information. Six months of work. Most of it probably isn’t any good anymore.”

“May I?” Bobby asked, taking the notebook as Sam nodded. “I’ll start on this. It may have all changed, but there could still be a trail”

Sam yawned, suddenly very tired. “You should probably go call Dean. He’ll keep walking until he drops if you don’t.”

John nodded and stood. He stopped at the door. “Thank you, Sam. I know you didn’t want to tell me.”

Sam sighed. “You were right. You needed to know.”

“You okay?” Caleb asked as he also stood from the chair by the bed.

Sam shifted on the bed and made a face. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“For what it’s worth Sam, you did what you had to do. He understands that.”

Sam wasn’t sure he did, but it was okay, Sam himself had come to terms with it already. “Honestly, I don’t care if he does. Dean is all that mattered.” He looked up at Caleb. “Did you kill him?”

“Who?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “The bastard you shot. Is he dead?” Hunters killed evil, not humans…Caleb was a hunter, one who didn’t find the moral issues as ambiguous as others.

“I honestly don’t know, Sam. I wasn’t thinking about it at the time. Dean was…gone, you were down, and I saw the last shot, I knew it was bad. My only thought was to eliminate the threat.”

Sam nodded. “I want him dead.” He lowered his eyes. “I want to cut his dick off and stuff it up his ass and watch him fucking bleed to death…and even that is too good for him.”

Caleb’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “You know, you really shouldn’t repress your feelings Sam.” He said with a soft smile. “If he isn’t dead, you can rest assured he will be.” He squeezed again, then stepped away. Sam yawned again and slid down to try to get comfortable. “You want more morphine?”

Sam shook his head. “No. I’ll sleep without it.”

“Okay. Call if you change your mind.”

 

Dean was tired when he came inside with his father. He’d counted the number of times he circled the yard, in case John wanted to know. He didn’t ask so Dean didn’t say. He was sweaty and he needed to pee. They came into the kitchen where Bobby was on the phone, a notebook in his hand. John was distracted almost immediately by Caleb and a big piece of paper on the table.

Dean withdrew back by the counter and watched, waiting for his father to say something, offer him instruction. When he didn’t, Dean started to feel a little distressed. He should be clean, wash the sweat away. He should ask to relieve himself. Then it dawned on him that Sam was alone. He needed to take care of Sam.

He bit his lip, weighing the severity of interrupting his father. On the one hand, his needs didn’t matter. _Never interrupt Master when he is with others_. On the other he could be punished for not following rules. _Slaves must never be soiled_. He was dirty and he would wet himself if he didn’t get permission soon. Punishment would be more severe for leaving the room without permission or breaking the rules than for interrupting. He cleared his throat and stepped closer. “Dad?”

John looked up, almost surprised to see Dean still standing there. “What do you need, Dean?”

“May I go relieve and clean myself?”

“Of course, Dean. You’re free to do those things anytime you need to.”

“I am?”

John forced a smile and nodded. “Yes, in fact we’ll call it our new rule, okay?”

Dean nodded, filing it away in his head. “May I check on Sam?”

“Yes, he’s your responsibility now. No need to ask permission. You need to take care of him.”

“He’s mine.” Dean said softly, remembering how Sam had knelt and asked him. 

John cupped a hand to his face. “Go on then. If you need anything, I’ll be down here.”

Dean climbed the stairs, feeling some of his earlier distress fade. He was free to take care of his body, and got to choose what to wear. He stopped at Sam’s room, checked his bandages and slipped back out to go to his father’s room. 

He showered quickly, though his thoughts weren’t on the proper way to clean himself. He yawned as he checked to see if he needed to shave, but shook off the fatigue pulling at him to go dress. He choose the sweatpants, even though they were too big. He remembered why they were too big. They were Sam’s. That made him smile. He liked having something of Sam’s.

He pulled them on, looking down at the excess material that pooled at his ankles. He decided that they would be okay for checking on Sam and sitting with him and put on the white t-shirt. 

His father had left the bed unmade, his clothes scattered around the room. He hadn’t told Dean to clean the room…but…Dean set his duffle on the floor by the dresser and made the bed, smoothing out the comforter. He remembered this room too, remembered his father sleeping here, sneaking in to make sure he was still alive after one of Sammy’s nightmares. He remembered more here than he had anywhere else. He’d found the car he and Sam used to hide in sometimes. He climbed inside it and found their names still marking the old twisted metal. Sam had kissed him there.

He folded his father’s clothes and laid them out on the bed in neat piles. That done, Dean straightened up the random objects on the dresser, an old brush and comb, a picture frame. The glass caught the light as he moved the frame and he stopped to look. His own face stared back at him. Him and Sam and his father. Dean scowled at the picture, trying to remember. Sam was young, maybe 14. Dean’s face was greasy and John was smiling.

Dean put the picture back, and finished tidying the dresser. He felt better about leaving the room now that it was neat. Master would be pleased. Dean stopped. His master was his father…and his father wouldn’t necessarily care about the room. It pleased Dean though that he could take care of his father this way. If he wouldn’t let him be what they had trained him to be, Dean would find ways to serve him. Like with Sam.

He was smiling when he came into Sam’s room. Outside Sam’s window the late afternoon sun was slanted across the yard. Dean lowered the blinds to block the sun. Sam needed his sleep.

Sam whimpered and Dean crossed to his bed, brushing a hand over his forehead. His eyes opened, something like fear in them. “You okay, Sam?”

Sam clutched his hand. “Nightmare.”

“I used to get them a lot. Just dreams though.” Just dreams, until they filled your cage and became real. “Go back to sleep.”

“Lay with me?” Sam kissed his hand, holding on to him like he was afraid Dean would vanish if he let go.

Dean nodded. “Move over a little.” He climbed up beside his brother, his left arm cradling his head, his right laying over Sam’s chest. “Better?”

Sam nodded, his eyes closed, already drifting back to sleep. Dean sighed, his own eyes closing. This was familiar…the room, the feeling of Sam in his arms. It felt good. It felt better.

 

John opened the door and found his two boys asleep, Dean curled protectively around Sam like he’d done when they were children. His face was so open, so innocent. The tears came unexpectedly and he swallowed them quickly as Caleb came up the stairs. John backed out of the room and pulled the door closed. “Ellen called. We’re on. Two days, at the Roadhouse.” 

John nodded, his throat suddenly dry. “Will we be ready?”

Caleb nodded. “Not a call will go out of that place that we don’t record.” He crossed his arms and regarded John. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ll be better when we get these bastards”

“Sam needs to know you’re okay with what he’s done.”

“Do you realize what that is?” John asked, turning away.

“Aside from what he told us in there?” Caleb crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I’m not stupid John. Neither are you.” He waited, and John couldn’t look up at him. “Neither is Sam. He loves his brother, John. Maybe more than is normal or right…but you’ve said it yourself, there isn’t anything those boys wouldn’t do for each other. Nothing.”

“God, Caleb. If you had seen him.” John swallowed the rising bile.

“Can you handle this?” Caleb touched John’s arm. “John? Can you be what he needs you to be?”

“I don’t know.” John admitted.

“Sam did what he had to do to get Dean back and to bring him this far. Now you have to do the same.” Caleb took a few steps toward the stairs. “If you can’t handle it now, how are you going to deal when we find them? When you see those people the way Dean was when Sam got to him?” Caleb turned back. “And we will find them John. We will, and when we do the men who did this to Dean will pay. But that isn’t going to fix anything.”

“No, it won’t. But it will make me feel better.”

“Will it?” Caleb left the question hanging there in the air for John to think about. 

Better. He had to believe it. Right now that belief was the only thing keeping John Winchester from losing himself.


	11. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Dean starts to remember more of himself in the safe, welcoming environment at Bobby's, memories of the more recent past are closer to the surface, and John has to deal with the fallout.

_”A good slave doesn’t have to ask his Master what he wants.” A heavy hand was on the back of his neck. “A good slave knows the rules, lives the rules and confesses freely when he breaks the rules.”_

_The hand came off his neck. “Do you understand?”_

_“Yes, Master.” His heart pounded in his chest. He hadn’t broken any rules. He was sure._

_“What is it I want, slave?”_

_He closed his eyes. “An obedient slave.”_

_“Are you obedient?”_

_His mind raced over the day so far. He had risen, showered properly, cleaned every inch of his body meticulously. Shaved himself clean. He brushed his teeth, combed his hair. He straightened his cage and cleaned the bathroom. He’d prepped himself carefully. Today was the day he was to earn his collar. Everything had been perfect. “I believe I am Master.”_

_“Present yourself.”_

_He stood and went to the apparatus. His feet slipped into the restraints and he bent forward over the curved top, both hands moving to part his ass cheeks. Once in position he raised himself to his tip toes, putting his ass on display._

_The cold touch of a gloved finger caressed his skin. He didn’t move. It dipped inside him, testing, exploring. If Master was pleased with his preparation he would take his pleasure with him. He would accept him. He would be good enough. As the cock entered him, he tried hard to hold still, not because of any discomfort or shame, but because it meant he was good. His Master wanted him._

Dean woke in the dark, disoriented. The bed was too comfortable, too warm…the body beside his hot. His eyes opened, sleep heavy and unfocused. His cock was hard against Sam’s thigh, under the sweatpants. Sam’s cock was in a similar state under the sheets, against Dean’s arm.

His breathing came in heavy pants. Each movement rubbed his cock against Sam’s hot skin, heat he could feel even through the material. He had been allowed to come that day, after he was collared. To show his pleasure at being able to serve. Sam moved, waking slowly to the rutting Dean was doing against him. “Dean.” Sam whispered it and Dean shook his head.

_Don’t talk. Never talk unless directly asked a question._

“Shh.” Dean said.

Sam kissed him and whispered. “Yours Dean.”

“Sam…can’t…he wouldn’t…”

Sam’s hand closed over Dean’s cock, stroking it slowly while his lips dotted Dean’s face with kisses. “Let me please you.”

Dean’s breath stuttered. He was caught between needing to obey the rules and wanting to be good to Sam…he had to take care of Sam, and Sam needed him. While he vacillated, Sam’s hand stroked him, bringing him closer and closer. 

Dean yelled out as he came, pulling away from Sam and tumbling out of the bed. Sam sat up too fast, reaching for Dean, then for his side. “No…” Dean’s hand went to his naked neck. “Wrong. Bad. Not good enough. Never good enough.”

He could see the blood, knew he’d hurt Sam. He closed his eyes and ran from the room, down to the bedroom where his father was asleep on the bed. He should wake him. Sam needed help. He had to take care of Sam first. He was panting. 

Dad would want to know. Dean was sure. Dad could fix Sam. His Sam. He hurt his Sam. Dean reached out tentatively and touched his father’s shoulder. “Dad. Please. Sam…I hurt Sam. Dad. Wake up.”

John sat up with a grunt. “What is it?”

Dean held his arms around his stomach. “Sam…bleeding. He’s hurt.”

“Okay, let me up.”

“I’m okay Dad.” Sam called from the hallway and Dean backpedaled away, covering his ears.

“Go to bed, Sam. Go lay down. Can’t get up.” Dean turned toward the wall as Sam stopped in the doorway, leaning against the door frame.

John looked from one son to the other. “Sam? What’s going on?”

“I moved wrong, tore the stitches. It isn’t bad.”

“Blood. Damaged.” Dean muttered, though he didn’t look up.

John tried to clear his head. “Come here and let me see.”

“No!” Dean whirled around. “Bad. Bad. Punish.” His eyes were wide. 

“Dean, calm down. No one has been bad. No one’s getting punished.” John pulled up Sam’s bandages and shook his head. “We’ll have to re-stitch it. Dean—“ He turned, but Dean was gone.

“He’s probably in the bathroom. He’ll shower and center and be calmer when he comes out.” Sam said softly. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. He was upset. I was trying to calm him down. Apparently it back fired.”

“I’ll say. Let’s get you taken care of.”

 

John helped Sam back into bed, ripping the bandage off and pressing him down when he tried to sit up. “What happened?”

Sam shook his head. He wasn’t completely sure himself. “He had a dream, something about his training, but I don’t know what.”

“Why do say it was about the training?” John asked as he threaded a needle.

“He…talks in his sleep, always has.” Sam closed his eyes and laid back, lifting his arm out of his father’s way. He could still hear the sound of Dean’s voice, the sound of submission in his voice. _Yes, Master_ Sam shivered as the cold needle bit into him and murmured, “Sorry.”

“Why does he think he was bad?”

Sam shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”

John stopped and looked Sam in the eye. “Damn it Sam. Stop protecting me. I’ve got to go back in there and deal with him. I need to know. I don’t want to know, but I need to.”

Sam swallowed and looked away. “Whatever he was dreaming, he woke up…aroused.” He winced as John’s fingers resumed their sewing. “It was forbidden, even more so than orgasm…only allowed when the Master demanded it. I’m not his master any more, and you…” Sam sighed, watching John tie off the last stitch and cut the thread. “So, he was wrong, bad.”

John’s jaw was tight and Sam wasn’t sure exactly what was going on behind those dark eyes. “Dad?”

John’s eyes closed and his tongue swiped his lower lip. “You can’t…use him…Sam. You can’t…it’s so many kinds of wrong.” He blew out a breath and stood, gathering his supplies. Sam had expected fury, when and if his father ever found out…not this…this quiet numbness. “I’m going to give you more morphine, and go deal with Dean.”

“No.” Sam sat up gingerly. “You can’t think that I…want…that I _like_ this? That I would _use_ him like that?”

“Are you going to tell me that you haven’t…touched him? That you haven’t let him touch you? How dumb do you think I am, Sam?” There was some of the anger…but it was still off, still wrong somehow…not directed at what he was imagining they had done together, but at Sam’s hiding of it.

“What?” Sam got to his feet and followed his father. “What?”

“You would do anything to ease his pain, I know that. I see the pain when he…saw it when he wanted so desperately to please you.” John sighed and sagged a little against the dresser. “You wanted to help him…I get that.”

“Do you?” Sam asked. “God, Dad. This is so fucked up.” In more ways than even his father knew or understood…because Sam wanted Dean so badly sometimes he ached…because denying Dean had never been Sam’s strong suit…because Sam really had given himself to his brother all those years before…right out there, in the crazy playground that was Bobby’s yard.

John snorted. “Yes, Sam, it really is.” Sam felt John’s eyes on him and looked up. “I just don’t think that letting him…live out that training is the best way to handle it.”

Sam agreed on some level. That was why he’d tried so hard to find other ways Dean could please him…ways that kept them from going there, because what he had with Dean was too sacred to lose inside the twisted up dynamic that this had forced onto them. 

The problem was, it was all Dean understood. He had been trained to derive his pleasure from pleasing his master. Sam sighed. “He needs to know he’s good, that he’s pleased you. That’s why the collar was so important, why that fuckwad James taking it off of him traumatized him the way it did. You need to make sure he knows he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“How? How do I do that?”

Sam smiled at him and shuffled back toward the bed. “You love him. You’ll find a way.”

 

_”What is this, slave?”_

_“Blood, Master.”_

_“Whose blood?”_

_“Mine.” Dean whispered the word, terrified. The razor had slipped, just a little…just a nick. It wasn’t much blood. Two drops in the sink, the little bit on his hands._

_“How did this happen?”_

_“I did it, sir. I…I wasn’t careful.”_

_“You damaged my property?”_

_“Yes, Master.”_

_“You will be punished for this.”_

_“Yes, Master.” He shook as he knelt on the bathroom floor._

_“Have you finished your preparations?”_

_“No, Master.”_

_“Finish, then present yourself.”_

_When Master was gone, Dean got up off the floor. His hands were shaking as he picked up the razor to finish shaving. It took longer than it should, and when he was done, he knew it wasn’t good enough. It would make the punishment worse, but he couldn’t bring himself to try again, afraid he’d cut himself again. He emerged from the bathroom._

_Master was seated at the breakfast table, reading. Dean went to his knees and bent forward, waiting. Master let him wait. “You will present yourself to punishment. You will obey the master and when he has given you your punishment, you will return here so that I may examine your repentance.”_

Dean huddled on the floor of the shower. The water had gone cold and he still hadn’t cleaned himself properly. He hurt his Sam. He didn’t deserve his Sam. He was bad. No one wanted him. Master took the collar. Master took his Sam. Master didn’t want him, wouldn’t let him serve him. Two days. Two whole days before Master allowed him to serve again, and then he only used his mouth.

Already his father denied him. Now he’d be punished, sent away. Maybe his father would send him back. Sam said he never would. Dean didn’t want to go back. He wanted to belong. Maybe if he could make his father see how good he could be…

Slowly, Dean got up and turned the water off. He shivered with cold, but got out and dried himself off. He hadn’t heard his father return. Carefully, Dean checked the bedroom. He wasn’t there. Dean walked softly into the bedroom and found John’s belt. He knew the new rules said he should wear clothes, but this was different. This was punishment. He knelt on the bed, facing the door, with the folded belt in his hands, and settled in to wait.

 

John didn’t go immediately back to Dean. He needed to bolster his strength, so he detoured to the kitchen and pulled out the bottle of Jack that Bobby kept in the cupboard. He poured a shot, then added a little more to the glass before lifting it and draining it. Sam hadn’t admitted anything outright…but he hadn’t denied it either. 

That left him with an image burning into his brain…an image of his boys…He poured more of the whiskey into the glass and drained it. Then purposefully put the bottle away. Getting drunk wasn’t the answer. He could be a sloppy drunk and dealing with Dean was going to require a clear head.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, John climbed the stairs again and headed for his room. He almost closed the door immediately upon opening it. Dean knelt on the bed, naked and shaking, brown leather draped over his hands and held up in offering.

John made himself go into the room, close the door and walk to the bed. “What is this?” He made his voice deep, and it rumbled into the corners of the room. 

Dean lowered his head a little more. “I am ready for my punishment, sir.”

“What do you need to be punished for, Dean?”

He fidgeted, then stilled. “I let myself be erect without permission and I had an orgasm without permission…and I hurt Sam.”

John almost couldn’t look at him, thinking about Sam touching him. “You didn’t hurt Sam, Dean. Sam hurt himself. It was an accident.”

“Please. I don’t want to be bad. Help me be good. For you.”

John breathed slowly, and reached out to take the belt from Dean, who responded by dropping his face to the comforter, offering his back and ass for the beating he anticipated. “I’m not going to beat you, Dean.”

He thought he heard a sob and Dean rocked back. “Look at me.” Dean sat up slowly. “You didn’t hurt Sam.” He set the belt down on the bed beside Dean. “I can’t punish you for something you didn’t do.”

Confusion registered. “I broke the rules. I came. I…I wanted. I wanted to come. I didn’t…it wasn’t right. Not clean.” Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. “I lost my collar because I wasn’t good enough. I want to be good enough.”

John brushed a big thumb over Dean’s cheek and smiled sadly. “You didn’t lose your collar, Dean. You didn’t need it anymore.”

Dean stiffened. “You’re too good for a collar, Dean. The way you took care of Sam? You made sure he ate, and got his medicine and slept. You came and got me when he started bleeding. That’s so much better than good.”

John was pretty sure Dean didn’t believe him. “In fact, I’ve got something for you.” He went to the duffle bag on the floor by the dresser and pulled out the smaller bag that held his odds and ends of personal items from his life before. It wasn’t much. A few pictures, a barrette that had been Mary’s and still held a few strands of her hair, the handkerchief she had stuck in her sleeve at their wedding, and an old, beat up ring with a W etched on the oval surface. 

“You probably don’t know this…but your mother was a pretty progressive woman. She decided right from our very first date that I was going to be her man. She proposed to me before I even got the nerve up to look at rings. Got down on one knee and everything.” He smiled at the memory, savoring the look on her face. “She gave me this.

He held his hand out, the ring resting there on his palm. Dean looked at it, and shook his head. “Not good enough.”

John picked the ring up with his other hand. “Give me your hand, Dean.”

There was no hesitation, Dean’s hand lifted at the order and John had to work not to show the emotion tearing him up inside. He set the ring on the middle finger of Dean’s right hand, hoping it would fit tight enough that it wouldn’t fall off. Dean’s hands were small compared to his own. “There. Not just good enough. Great.”

Dean still looked distressed, but he pulled the hand back to look at the ring, one finger of his left hand tracing the W in the silver. It wasn’t much of a ring, truth be told, but it was as close to an heirloom as the three Winchesters owned. 

“Now…I believe we did have a rule about clothes, Dean.” John said. “I’m going into the bathroom. I hope to see you’ve put something on when I come back.”

John exhaled the breath he’d been holding as he closed the door behind him. It was exhausting, reasoning his way past the conditioning that made Dean think he needed punishment…and he hadn’t even tackled the sexual aspect yet. He splashed some water on his face while he considered his options. 

No matter what Caleb said, he couldn’t condone what Sam had done…that he had touched his brother. Probably more. John groaned at the thought. The last thing he needed was to think about Dean offering himself up to Sam the way he had offered himself up to John…or that Sam might have…could have…”Fuck!” John cursed into the porcelain of the sink. 

If what Sam said was true, and Dean had been trained, god only knew how, to never get aroused…then his arousal and subsequent orgasm was actually progress. John stared at himself in the mirror for a long time. How do you tell your twenty-five year old son that it was okay to feel arousal? That he could masturbate if he needed to? He’d never had to have that kind of talk with either boy. Dean seemed to pick it all up on his own, and anything Dean knew, Sammy found out from Dean.

When he emerged back into the bedroom, Dean was wearing boxers and a t-shirt, kneeling on the floor. John started for the bed, then thought better of having this conversation in this room. “I’m thirsty Dean. Why don’t we go get a midnight snack?”

In the kitchen he rummaged around the refrigerator until he came up with two beers and some salami. “Sit down Dean. We need to talk.” John opened the beers and set them on the table, then dug out a knife to cut the salami. 

“I think it’s time we establish a few more rules, Dean. I want to help you.”

“Rules.” Dean nodded, folding his hands on the table. 

“We’ve already established the clothes thing. You wear them, unless you’re in the shower or have a good reason not to.”

“How do I know what is a good reason?” Dean asked, his face sincere.

“I trust you to know.” John said. He was not going to tell his son when he should take his clothes off. “And, I told you that you have permission to take care of your body’s needs. That means bathroom, cleaning, eating, anything you need. Okay?”

Dean nodded slowly and John could see him processing. “Okay. I understand all of that.”

“Good.” John downed half his beer, then looked at Dean’s. “You can drink that.”

Dean made a face. “Can I have water?”

“Of course. I just thought you’d like to have a beer with your old man.”

Dean bit his lip and reached tentatively for the bottle. “Dean, you don’t have to. I won’t be angry.”

There was something like fear in his eyes when he looked up. “I never got choices, and sometimes when the drink wasn’t water, it was drugged…or it was…” He stopped and looked away.

John nodded and got up to get him a glass of water from the tap. “Never be afraid to explain things like that to me, Dean. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Dean’s voice was small and he sipped on his water before John sighed and moved on.

“That’s true of a lot of things Dean. Sam and I don’t understand everything you’ve been through. If we say or do something that makes you uncomfortable, I want you to tell us.”

“Like when you touched me.”

John’s head swam around the words, trying to figure out what he was referring to, then he nodded. “Yes, like that. You told me and I took my hand away.”

“You can touch me now though.” Dean said. “You don’t…but you’re allowed to, right?”

And there it was, put out on the table for them to stare at while John fumbled the words around in his brain. “Dean.” John reached out for Dean’s hand. “I need to say something that’s very important, and it’s going to hurt you, even though I don’t mean it to. So I want you to listen, and when I’m done you can say anything, you can be sad or angry or whatever. Okay?”

Dean just nodded and John squeezed his hand. “Dean, I’m your father. I am not ever going to hurt you. I am not ever going to…do the things that man did to you.” He took a breath. He could see the affect on Dean’s face already. “Now, it doesn’t mean that you aren’t good, or that you aren’t perfect. It means that I can’t be that for you. I can’t, do you understand?”

“Are you going to send me away?”

John closed his eyes, his heart ripping. “No, Dean. Never sending you away.”

“Am I…still yours?”

John opened his eyes and licked his lips. “You were mine the day you were born Dean. You will be until the day you die.”

Dean blinked and the tears faded. “What about Sam?”

“What about him?”

Dean seemed to think about it for a while before he spoke. “If I’m yours because I’m your son, and Sam is your son…is he yours too?”

John exhaled slowly. “I guess, in a way.”

“But you gave him to me?” Dean cocked his head a little, as if seeing something a ways off. “I remember. You put him in my arms and told me to take him.”

John reached blindly for his beer. “Yes,” he managed before he swallowed to keep from crying. “Yes, Dean. And you’ve taken care of him ever since.”

“Until he left us.” Dean said. He set the water glass down and toyed with the beer bottle. “Then I took care of you.”

“Until I chased you away.” John said, remembering the drunken fighting, the endless driving, chasing ghosts and monsters with shitty motels and greasy spoons the only respite from the road.

“I was coming back.” Dean said into the silence that had lasted longer minutes than John intended. “I was.”

“I know. Sam told me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You really need to stop apologizing Dean. None of this is your fault.”

“No. For before. I didn’t make it easy on you after Sam left.”

John’s breath caught in his throat as Dean lifted the beer bottle and took a swig. This was Dean…still damaged, still broken…but more Dean than he’d seen since they’d gotten out of that place. Then Dean made a face and put the bottle down. “What’s wrong?”

Dean rubbed a finger across his tongue. “I don’t think I actually like beer.”

John couldn’t help himself, he laughed out loud. Dean smiled and John slapped the table. “That’s good Dean.”

“Is that okay?” Dean asked as the laughter died down. “That I tell you, I mean?” He moved his butt around on the chair. “You and Sam both keep asking me about what I want, what I like. I’m not supposed to want and it shouldn’t matter what I like. That’s…the training.”

John reached for his hand again. “I always want to know what you like, Dean, and what you don’t…and if you want something, ask for it. I want you to have things that you want.” Which actually brought them to the next subject. “Like…orgasms.” John closed his eyes. 

Dean pulled his hand free and tucked it under the table. Just like that the Dean that spoke a moment before about Sam’s leaving was gone, buried under the façade burned onto him by that bastard James.

John sighed. “It’s natural to be aroused, Dean. It’s natural to express your sexual needs. I don’t want you to repress that.”

“You want me…it’s okay to…”

John nodded. “Let’s call it part of taking care of your body’s needs, okay…just like eating. Can you do that?”

Dean nodded slowly. “I think I can.”

“Good.” John finished off his beer. This whole thing had exhausted him. “I’m going to go back to bed. You can come up whenever you’re ready.”

“Where should I go? Sam’s room or yours?”

“Your choice, Son. Whatever makes you happy.” He kissed Dean’s forehead and left him at the table.

Dean didn’t watch him leave, just stared at the beer bottle and the water glass. Choice. He picked up the beer bottle again. He could remember drinking beer, but he didn’t remember it tasting like this. He took another sip, but it was just as bad. He chased it with the water to wash the taste out of his mouth. 

He cleaned up the bottles and the salami, then washed his hands before turning off the kitchen light and climbing the stairs. He hesitated outside the room where Sam lay, then opened the door. Choice. 

Sam was awake. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Dean smiled. “Sorry…for earlier.”

Sam yawned and moved over on the bed, patting the space beside him. “Where were you?” 

Dean got into bed, his body naturally curving to fit with Sam’s. “Having a beer with the old man.”

Sam looked surprised when he looked at him. “Yeah? How was it?”

“Tasted like ass.” Dean said, then blushed red and buried his head in the crook of Sam’s neck.

“Like ass?” Sam smiled and shook his head. “I always kinda thought so too.”

“Sleep Sammy.” Dean kissed the back of his neck and Sam yawned again.

“Yeah, Dean, yeah.”


	12. Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John, Caleb and Bobby head out to the Roadhouse to rally the hunters for the coming battle, and maybe reveal a traitor in their midst...Sam and Dean share a moment and some memories.

“You’re what?” Sam asked, louder than he intended. He glanced behind him where Dean was still eating his breakfast.

His father paced away. “You’re in no condition and someone has to stay here, take care of Dean.”

“I’m not disagreeing with that. But you’re not even considering the consequences.”

“We’re not stupid, Sam.”

“No. No. It’s dumb, it’s dangerous. You don’t know enough.” Sam could think of a hundred reasons why it was the wrong thing to do now. “Just like you, just go barging in without thinking it through. I don’t even know half these names. You trust them?” He thrust the piece of paper back at his father. The last thing they needed was a room full of hunters who didn’t trust each other…any of whom could have traded Dean for…for whatever the going rate was on betrayal.

John shook his head. “No, not all of them. But they’re everyone we think could have had something to do with this…and we’ll have them all under surveillance. They won’t know where you are, they won’t even know Bobby’s there. Ellen’s the go between, and she doesn’t even know you boys are here. She thinks you’re with Pastor Jim.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to, Sam. I’m not sitting around here letting these bastards get further and further away from us.” John picked up his bag. “You’ll be safe here. Caleb checked the perimeter this morning, and Bobby’s standard protections are in place. You’ll have plenty of warning if anything comes snooping. We’ll be back tomorrow night.”

“Dad!”

John walked away while Sam was still sputtering. Sam heard him giving Dean instructions, then he was gone and Sam was still fuming over the whole thing. He stalked out to the kitchen where Dean was eating Lucky Charms from a huge bowl. 

He watched out the kitchen window as the car pulled out. He didn’t like this, his father out there among men and women that Sam didn’t know…one of whom very likely set Dean up...leaving him and Dean alone He turned away from the window with a sigh, instinctively holding his side as the stitches twinged.

“You okay Sam?”

Sam looked up at the concern in Dean’s face and smiled. “Yeah, I’m good. I stink and should take a shower, but I’m good.”

“I could help you…you know, if you needed help.”

Sam smiled. “Thank you. I think I can do it…you could come sit in the bathroom with me…just in case I need help.” He didn’t like the idea that they were there alone, and liked the idea of Dean downstairs alone even less. It wasn’t like Sam was actually on his feet…he was still healing, and if there was trouble…

“You should eat.” Dean said, getting up to put his bowl in the sink.

“I had some toast with my coffee when I came downstairs.” Dean gave him a look that very clearly said that toast wasn’t breakfast and Sam smiled. “I’ll have something later, okay?”

He let Dean help him up the stairs, leaning onto him as they climbed slowly. He could have gone faster, but Dean held them to a slow pace and held his arm all the way into the bathroom.

Sam started to protest when Dean started the shower for him and began helping him undress. “Helping.” Dean said and it was enough, Sam let him pull the t-shirt up and off. Dean’s hands were soft and warm as they moved over his skin, removing bandages before sliding down to pull the pajama bottoms off. “There you go.”

He felt naked, which…well…he was, but he’d never felt it so acutely as he did with Dean standing there beside him, fully dressed, even wearing his sneakers. He blushed, and turned toward the shower, stepping in over the lip of the tub.

With the shower curtain pulled closed he closed his eyes and tried to get past the feeling that whatever it was his father thought he was doing would cost them.

 

John sat beside Caleb and stared at the dusty little building. The parking lot was heavy in late model cars, some of which he recognized. He sighed and pulled out his cell phone. “You ready?” He nodded as Bobby answered. “Let’s get it done.”

He was feeling his age as he got out of Caleb’s car…feeling old and stretched too thin over jagged edges. He hadn’t seen Ellen in a few years, hadn’t been here since…since he’d come to tell her that her husband was dead. 

They moved over the dusty parking lot in tandem. It was so easy with Caleb. He was all fluid motion and predictable grace. “You sure about this John?” Caleb asked as they reached the door. “Once we go in there...”

John paused, then nodded. He didn’t look at Caleb. “When I find out who--“

Caleb’s hand on his arm stopped him. “I know.”

The place hadn’t changed much since he’d been there last. Twenty pairs of eyes rose to watch them as they came in and John let his gaze sweep the room. There was curiosity and respect on some faces, hunger on others. “John Winchester.” The voice was husky, but feminine…whiskey warm and matched with a sad, knowing smile as Ellen came out from behind the bar to greet them.

“Ellen.” John waited for her, turning to meet her. The hesitation was brief, then she was pulling him into a hug, her hands rubbing over his back. Her eyes moved to Caleb when she let him go.

“Long time, Caleb.”

“Ellen.”

“Come on up to the bar and I’ll bring you up to speed.”

A low buzz of conversation enveloped them as they moved away from the door and settled onto stools while Ellen poured them each a beer. “Pretty much everyone is here. I got a call from Joshua saying he’d be late, he had a hunt go south yesterday and he needs to clean up the mess.”

John shrugged and sipped at the beer. “I doubt it’s him anyway…he doesn’t really know the boys.”

Ellen snorted and looked him in the eye. “Neither do I John…but I know you. Believe me, if I wanted to hurt you, Dean is exactly where I’d start.”

John winced because maybe Ellen had more motivation than anyone else in the room…and maybe she was right…and maybe…”John, you can’t rule anyone out yet.” Ellen said, wiping the counter in front of him.

“Yeah, I know.” His eyes moved to a group in the far corner, a group eyeing him with an interest that seemed something less than friendly. “What about them?”

Ellen nodded. “Yeah, Gordon and his crew. You’ve never met a more black and white crowd. Questionable morality if only because they don’t question their morality. There’s right and there’s wrong with them…nothing in between. You want killers on your side when you find these guys, those are your men.”

John nodded, filing the information away. He moved to a more familiar group. “How’re Joe and Mellie?”

The man in question, maybe 35 and bearing the scars of more than 15 years of hunting raised his glass in John’s direction. “She’s still recovering from a run in with something nasty in Nashville, she’s out in the motor home sleeping. Joe’s a little ragged, but he brought us this.” She tossed a folder on the counter.

John opened it. “Says he caught wind of something moving through Dayton, Ohio, but when he got there this was all that was left.”

There were pictures of a warehouse lined with cages. John exhaled slowly. “Yeah…these are our boys.”

“I’ve got Ash working on it now.”

John turned and looked around the room. “So…should we get this party started?”

 

The afternoon was warm and Sam turned his face up into the sun. It felt good to sit here, on the hood of a junker in Bobby’s yard with Dean beside him, letting the warmth burn into him. He could almost pretend. Almost.

Dean was quiet beside him, staring off across the yard. “Sam?”

“Yeah?” 

“I remember things about this place.”

Sam sighed and leaned back on the hot metal of the hood. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “I found the car yesterday, when I was walking.”

Sam squinted up at him. He knew without asking which car. They’d played in it for years…it had been their space ship, their fighter plane, a base of operations for play hunts. It had been the first place Sam had kissed Dean…when he was fourteen and horny as hell and not sure what he was doing or why. It had been the place where they’d hidden and groped one another…where Sam begged Dean to touch him, confessed his need, his want for Dean to be his first, his only…never anyone else.

“Yeah?” he asked breathlessly.

“I sat in the back seat and tried to remember what it was like…before.”

It was a Continental Mark IV with a hole torn in the back seat so they could crawl into the trunk. No engine, and a front seat crushed in some nameless accident, more a carcass than a car, it had held more than a few of the secrets that existed between himself and Dean.

Sam moved the gun from the small of his back and laid it on the hood under his hand before laying back against the warm metal. He sighed and Dean turned to look at him. “I know I’m different. I can…remember, but I don’t know how to go back.” 

“Do you want to?” Sam asked, looking up at him. “You don’t…you can be whatever you want to be, Dean. Do whatever you want.”

Faint distress flitted across his face, then he slid down to lay beside Sam. “Want.” He lifted a hand to brush Sam’s hair out of his eyes. “I’m starting to remember want. It’s one of the first things they try to take away.” His face was open, tender…and Sam could almost feel the ache. “They take it all away, you know. Freedom, choices, desire.”

“Dean…” Sam met his eyes, surprised at how much _Dean_ he could see in them. 

“Its okay…Dad told me I should tell you things…that it would help…At first, you don’t think you’ll ever…you know…want it. Because…they take it…they strip you and chain you down and do whatever they want to you…for days and days…” Dean’s voice was soft and almost breathy, his finger tracing over Sam’s face softly. “Then one day it happens…someone is inside you and your body…just…accepts it…and you’re hard…” Dean swallowed, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them again, he didn’t look at Sam. “They make fun of you, and they make you come…and call you names…tell you that you’re a whore and a slut…and you can’t help but believe them.”

“God, Dean.” Sam caught his brother’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “You don’t have to…I mean…I’ll hear anything you want to tell me…But you don’t have to say anything.”

Dean’s smile was fleeting and he lowered himself further, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder. “I know. But I wanted to ask you something…and I needed…” He sighed softly. “Can you…still…want me knowing that?”

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed the hurt. “There is nothing anyone could do to you Dean that would make me want you any less.”

“I remember you…in the car…I remember you asking me to be your first.”

“And you were…you were afraid you’d hurt me…but it felt so good.” Sam ran a hand through Dean’s hair. He was trying to follow Dean’s scattered wanderings, not sure where they were going, or how long he’d have this Dean with him, before he retreated once more behind the curtain of conditioning.

“I never told you…but you were mine too. Dean’s hand splayed out across Sam’s chest, against the beating of his heart. “I mean…I’d…done stuff…but it was the first time it meant something.”

Sam’s breath stopped. “Dean?”

He pressed his cheek tighter against Sam’s chest. “I wanted you to be the first…like that…like I was for you. They…took that away. The first time, after you…came for me, when you took off the collar I couldn’t tell you. I tried, but it wasn’t the same.”

Sam pressed a kiss to Dean’s hair. “I shouldn’t have, not then. I’m sorry. I never want to treat you like they did.”

Dean shook his head. “I wanted you to, I needed you to.”

“It’s not…good Dean. Dad was right about that…I can’t do that to you.”

“He doesn’t understand. You did.”

“He’s never…he never knew about us, Dean…and he would never be able to think about being with you like that.”

“But you can.”

He shook his head. “It’s not…It isn’t right.”

He could feel Dean’s frown against his chest. “I don’t understand.”

Sam sighed, looking for the words. How could he tell Dean that what they had before this was fucked up enough, _wrong_ enough…and that was the real reason he went away, to give Dean a chance to have something that wasn’t…this. How, when he’d just told him that nothing could make him not want him.

Dean lifted up onto his elbow to look at him. “Even if I want it?”

“What?” Sam shivered, despite the heat of the day. “Dean—“

Off in the distance, Sam heard one of the dogs barking, then quiet. “We should head inside.” His hand closed on the gun. “Dad said he’d call.”

Dean nodded and slid from the car, holding out his hand to help Sam. He chuckled and took his brother’s hand, letting him support his right side a little. It was a bit of a walk for his first day out of bed, and their father had told Dean he was to make sure Sam didn’t over do it. It was nice to lean on his big brother again…even if it was more literal leaning, than figurative.

 

John divided his attention between the gathering evidence as hunters weighed in and the hunters themselves. Word spread in a community like this one, and the idea that there was someone out there hunting hunters had brought some fire to the mix. There wasn’t a whole lot of love, but there was a common goal in the generic sense.

Beside him, Caleb was silent, watching around them, his hand on his cell in case Bobby called them. The whole thing was frustrating. There were pictures of cages and trucks, stories of run-ins with people who claimed to know the operation…but nothing concrete.

“John Winchester…in the flesh.” 

He looked up as Gordon approached his table, flanked by two others. “I thought, from the stories, you’d be bigger.”

John sighed. “You got something for me? Or are you just here to hero-worship?”

“I heard it was your boys that had all the attitude in the family…I guess I see where they get it from.”

“Got a point?” John growled. He didn’t like this guy. Didn’t like him one bit.

“Maybe.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Means maybe. Don’t rightly know.” He dropped a file folder on the table. “Could be I do…but I’m not sure what exactly we’re looking for here. All my info comes via the grapevine…and you know how that can be.”

John dragged his eyes from Gordon’s obnoxious expression to the folder and he exhaled to gather himself before opening it. The pictures were good, of a facility…each shot getting progressively closer, until he could see a truck and a line of people. The next shot stopped him. He looked up at Gordon. “Son of a bitch!” 

Pictures scattered everywhere as John jumped to his feet and grabbed Gordon, dragging him up and over the table before throwing him to the ground, his big left hand slamming into Gordon’s jaw. 

He got another few blows in before Caleb was pulling him back and Gordon’s friends were coming to his aid. Gordon chuckled and wiped at his bloody lip. “Guess that means I got something for you.” Gordon said.

“John?” Ellen and several others righted the table and starting picking up the pictures. “Oh my god.” Ellen exclaimed softly as she lifted one that showed three men in chains beside the truck. All three were naked, collared, kneeling. Despite all of that, there was no mistaking that the one on the end was Dean.

There were more. Close ups of Dean as he was moved out of the facility to kneel by the truck, then as he was loaded into the truck with others. “Where did you take these?” Ellen asked Gordon as he got to his feet.

“Maryland.” Gordon said. “I was investigating a demon manifestation, and stumbled across it. Didn’t realize what it was until I heard about the Winchester boy.”

“I don’t believe you.” John said, pushing against Caleb’s hand on his chest. “You obviously knew that was Dean. You fucking—“

“John…we don’t know—“

“I know how to find out.”

Caleb turned John around and stepped between him and Gordon. “Go get a drink. Let me handle this.”

No one flinched when Caleb pulled a gun and put it against Gordon’s head. “You have exactly five seconds to start explaining yourself, Gordon.”

“Or what? You gonna kill me Caleb? Don’t think you got it in you, as I recall, you take the moral high road.”

Caleb cocked the gun. “Want to test that theory?”

Gordon lifted his hands. “You looking to start a war Caleb?”

All around them the room was moving, Gordon’s friends circling around them to stand with him. To either side of Caleb other hunters gathered, weapons drawn. The sound of a shotgun being pumped echoed through the road house and when the shot echoed, Gordon grabbed his thigh and collapsed forward.

“There will not be a war in my bar.” Ellen said, pumping the shotgun again. “You boys want to settle down. And Gordon, you better start talking before I decide to even you out.”

Her eyes snapped to John’s and her eyebrow went up. “Get to it. If he’s the one, he ain’t leaving here.”

John nodded while Caleb dragged Gordon to a chair and started securing him. He took the pictures from the table and looked at them again. “He’s a pretty boy, isn’t he?” Gordon said, still spitting blood out of his mouth.

John didn’t even look, just hit him, hard across the cheek, rocking the chair into Caleb. “Shut the fuck up unless you’re answering a question.”

He stalked away, over to the bar, with Ellen following. “Give me a shot of whiskey.”

“You don’t need—“

“Don’t tell me what I need Ellen. Those are pictures of my boy. My Dean. Think if it was Jo.”

Ellen closed her eyes and nodded slowly. “Whiskey.” Her hands shook as she poured, and his shook as he lifted the shot.

“What do you know about him?”

Ellen shrugged and downed a shot herself. “Loose cannon. Ugly temper. Those guys with him are just as bad. Together they’re worse.”

“He any good?”

Ellen nodded slowly. “Damn good. Remember that nest of vampires that got by Elkins? They didn’t get past Gordon. He’s probably the best tracker in the business.”

John closed his eyes and nodded. Tracker. Capable of hunting other hunters. He turned and looked at Caleb standing watch over Gordon. John set the pictures face down on the bar. He didn’t need to look to see the blank, empty expression on his son’s face, or the sunken, lost eyes, the bruises fading on his shoulders…the collar. 

He lifted the shot glass for another and felt Ellen pour it. He had to hold it together. Somehow. He tipped his head back and let the whiskey burn down to his stomach. Hold it together. Get the answers. Beat the fucking shit out of this guy. In that order.


	13. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A traitor revealed...others suspected, and Sam and Dean find themselves betrayed yet again...

“John, a word?”

John set aside the shot glass and turned. Joe stood behind him, tucking his gun away now that the immediate threat had passed. “I’m the first to agree, Gordon’s an ass, but he’s not the kind to sell anyone out like this.”

John exhaled slowly. Now that he’d calmed down he was inclined to agree, but he was still pissed, and Gordon’s pictures proved that he had seen Dean and the others and done nothing to help them. “I know.” He picked up the stack of pictures, shuffling through them. After a minute he handed them to Joe. “You recognize anyone else in these?”

Joe squinted at the top picture, and started to shake his head, then he flipped to the next one. “Hey, isn’t that Jerry? Mark Hatchet’s boy?”

John frowned and took the picture back. “I thought Hatchet left the country.”

Joe shrugged. “That’s what I heard too. But the kid in that picture’s the right age, looks like his daddy.”

“Sam did say that they liked hunters…something about the challenge.” He sighed and looked up at Caleb who was keeping Gordon in his chair while someone tended his wound. He crossed to them and crossed his arms. “How long ago were these taken?”

“A month…a little more.” Gordon said dispassionately. “I didn’t know that was your boy.”

“Not when you took them.” John agreed, watching as the female hunter from Gordon’s group tied off the bandage on his thigh. “But you figured it out.”

A lot of Gordon’s attitude seemed to have drained with the blood seeping out of his thigh. “I ran into another hunter a few days or so ago, he recognized your boy.”

“Who?” Another hunter. Someone who knew Dean.

Gordon’s eyes jumped to Caleb, then back to John. “Joshua. I had heard rumors about something big, and he was obviously hunting something he didn’t want to share information about. I tried to draw him out with the pictures. He told me about this little gathering, and said I should bring them.”

Joshua. John looked at Caleb, then up to Ellen. Joshua who wasn’t here. “Did he say what he was hunting?”

Gordon shook his head. “Nah…tight lipped that one. I made him nervous though.”

“Where was this?”

“A place called Sharon, south of here. He said he’d be here.” Gordon looked at his friends. “If it’s worth anything, I had one of my crew follow the truck. He lost them somewhere in New York.”

 

Sam’s side ached as he settled into the chair in the kitchen. Dean had insisted he make lunch, that Sam had to eat and then take a nap. He wasn’t really inclined to argue. Their father hadn’t called yet, which was troublesome, but not enough to call him. If he’d gotten caught up, or…if there was trouble, calling him wasn’t going to be helpful.

He watched Dean at the stove, stirring whatever he was cooking. It was reminiscent of younger days, when it was him and Dean while Dad was off hunting and Bobby was out in his yard messing with some car. He smiled, remembering the day Dean had forgotten about the spaghettios and burned them…and the smoke detectors went off. 

“What?” Dean asked and Sam realized he was putting a bowl in front of him. Sam chuckled, looking at the macaroni and cheese in the bowl.

“Just a memory. You burning my lunch.”

Dean frowned at him and sat next to him with his own bowl. “I was distracted.”

“Yeah, I remember. Baywatch.” Sam picked at the pasta. 

“Nicole Eggert was hot.” 

Sam looked up as Dean blushed and ducked his head. He opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of the dog and a car door stopped him. He reached for his gun and stood up. “Stay here,” he said softly, moving to look out the window. It was way too early for their father to be back.

He craned his head to see out the window, but all he could see was a hint of bumper. The dog wasn’t barking. That was disconcerting somehow. Sam moved toward the door, gun up. It opened among a jingle of keys and a half-familiar voice calling “Dad?”

Sam stopped and so did the man at the door. They stared at each other then the other men held up his hands. “Sam? Jesus. You scared me.”

“Robert?”

He nodded and stepped inside, closing the door. “Yeah…what are you doing here?”

Sam lowered the gun and shook his head. “You’re father’s letting us crash for a few days.” 

“Yeah? He around?”

Sam shook his head. “No. Did he know you were coming?”

“Nah, I had a job not far from here, and it finished early. I was just dropping in to say hey…mooch a little…you know…”

It had been a few years since he’d seen Bobby’s son. He looked different…older, more filled out. “You look good.”

“You look spooked. Anything wrong?”

Sam shook his head. “No…just, you know…got shot a few days ago…a little jumpy.”

“Shot? I thought you were going to school…some big school according to my father.”

Sam nodded, tucking the gun away in his belt. “Yeah, Stanford. I…I’m taking a break.”

“Sam?” 

He turned to find Dean in the doorway, looking from Sam to Robert and back again. “Dean…look who dropped in to see Bobby.” Sam crossed to him, trying to urge calm as Dean’s eyes registered a bit of panic. 

“Robert.” Dean said and looked to Sam for confirmation. Sam nodded. He needed to get Dean away from Robert before he freaked out. 

“Hey, Robert, can you give us a minute? Dean and I were in the middle of something.”

Sam thought he heard Robert mutter something, but then he was opening the door again. “Yeah, sure…I gotta get stuff out of the car anyway.”

“Dean…come on…let’s go upstairs.”

“He…I know him.” Dean said, letting Sam direct him back through the kitchen to the stairs.

“Yeah…we know him. He’s Bobby’s son. He was around sometimes.”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “We had a fight. I punched him.”

Sam scowled and looked at him. “When?”

“Don’t remember.” 

Sam watched the flickers of memory in Dean’s eyes, then jumped when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket. “Bobby,” he said to Dean. “Why don’t you go into my room, I’ll be there in a minute.”

He opened the phone, watching Dean go. He stood at the top of the stairs, listening for Robert to come back in. “Hey Bobby…No, we’re fine…yeah, okay…Hey, did you expect Robert?”

He chuckled a little when Bobby declared that his son had the worst timing in the world…no instincts. “He just showed up, said he was doing a job nearby.”

Sam heard Robert come inside again. “Okay…tell Dad we’re fine. Yeah, I’ll tell him.” He shut off the phone, then peeked his head into the room where Dean was making the bed. “I’ll be back up in a minute. I need to go talk to Robert.”

 

John thumped into the van, throwing the collected pictures and information down next to Bobby. “Had to get out of there,” he muttered when Bobby looked up.

“How’s Gordon?”

John rolled his eyes. “Not bleeding any more. I swear, I could’ve killed him. Anything?” 

Bobby shook his head. “It’s been quiet. No calls worth mentioning.”

“Did you catch Joshua’s call to Ellen before we got here?”

Bobby nodded. “Traced it to Sharon, just like Gordon said. Sounded sincere.”

John nodded and shook his head. “We’re no better off than we were before we got here.”

Bobby picked up the folder and thumbed through it. “This everything?”

“Yeah. A whole lot of nothing that’s going to do us any good. Gordon’s pictures are the closest we’ve got, and they’re a month old.”

Bobby nodded. “What’s our next move?”

John ran a hand over his face. “We find Joshua.”

Bobby murmured agreement, then froze. John looked at him, trying to determine what that expression meant. “Bobby?” His face drained of color and his hands were shaking as he set the pictures down.

“Call Sam. Tell him to get Dean out of the house. Tell him to go out into the yard and find someplace to hide.”

“Bobby?”

“Just do it, damn it John. I’ll explain on the way.”

Bobby left the equipment he’d been monitoring and moved to the driver’s seat of the van. Before John even had his phone out of his pocket, Bobby was pulling out of the roadhouse parking lot, his own phone in his hand. John turned his attention to his phone, watching as it connected, then raised it to his ear. “Hello, you’ve reached Sam Winchester. Please leave a message.”

John stared at the phone for a moment. Sam should have answered. “Sam, I can’t explain. Bobby said to get Dean and get out of the house. Hide in the yard somewhere. I think we’re on our way back to you.”

John moved up to the passenger seat. In the mirror he could see hunters spilling out of the roadhouse. “You gonna explain?”

“The boys are in trouble.” Bobby’s face was still pale, drawn. “God…John…I thought they’d be safe. I didn’t…” He pulled them onto the road and stepped on the gas. “I think I know how this happened…or…at least…” He pulled his hat off and scratched at his head. “Shit.” 

John looked down on the floor between the seats at the picture Bobby had dropped there. “Bobby?” 

He picked up the picture, a shot of the truck and John recognized James standing near a door to the building. Beside him was a man a little older than Dean…a man John might never have recognized if not for Bobby’s reaction. “Bobby?”

“I talked to Sam. He’s there. Said he was looking for me.”

 

Dean paced in the room. Sam should have been back. He needed to sleep. Dean was uneasy. None of the memories he had of Robert were really good ones. They weren’t bad either. He remembered being jealous. He wasn’t sure he remembered why, something to do with Sam.

He opened the door and listened. He heard a voice that wasn’t Sam’s. Uneasy. Dean’s stomach flopped and he moved as quietly as possible down the stairs. He didn’t see Sam, didn’t hear him. 

“No, it’s not enough. I want what you originally promised. You should have handled this in Tulsa.” He heard Robert moving toward the stairs and flattened himself against the wall. “No. I have him restrained. No, I haven’t touched the other one. I told you already I have no interest in him.” 

Robert was pacing from the sound of it. Moving back into the kitchen. Dean inched down the stairs and dared a glance around the wall. He could see Sam’s foot near the table. Robert was turning around again. “Yeah, I don’t know how long before they get here, so if you don’t want a battle, you’ll get here before them.”

Dean heard him hang up the phone. “I guess I should go check on your brother, Sammy. Wouldn’t want him getting into trouble.”

Dean hurried back up the stairs, then hesitated. If Robert had restrained Sam…what would he do to him? Obviously he thought Dean was less of a threat. He was on the stairs. Dean moved into the bedroom, and lay on the bed, closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep. The door opened, and he heard Robert come into the room. It took a lot not to open his eyes. 

“That’s a good boy Dean. You sleep. When you wake up you’ll be safely back in your cage…and Sam will learn to forget you ever existed.”

Dean listened as he left the room. He lay there shivering at the naked hate in the other man’s voice. He didn’t remember Robert like that. But…he had Sam…and it didn’t sound like he was planning anything good. Dean got up and went to the window. He could see Robert’s car parked in front of the house. 

_Think Dean._

He shivered as a memory slid into his head, an image in the dark. Robert’s face.

_”Told you he was worth the effort.”_

_“You shouldn’t be so cocky. I could still put you in his place.”_

_“We both know he’s worth three times what anyone would pay for me. He’s the holy grail of pretty boys. Even his own brother can’t keep his hands off him.”_

Somehow he had to get out of the room. He had to help Sam.

 

Sam pulled on the ropes that tied him to the chair, but that was one thing Robert had obviously learned. He chewed on the gag and growled his frustration. He’d only managed to open his mouth to tell Robert that Bobby would be home in a day or two, when he’d hit him, hard. Sam probably wouldn’t have gone down, but he’d hit the soft spot where he’d taken the blow a few days before, and despite being out of bed, Sam was still not well. 

Sam tracked Robert’s movements as he paced with the phone. He couldn’t believe…but then he mentioned Tulsa and Sam wanted to kill him. Robert. Sam had to admit it made sense. He’d always been jealous of Dean. The last time they’d seen him had been before Sam had left for school. They’d brought Bobby some books from Pastor Jim’s. Sam hadn’t told anyone about Stanford…not until he and Dean had gone out to the car. 

It was the last time Dean had been inside him…they’d been too big for the car…too tall, too broad at the shoulders…but they made it work somehow. In the twilight, Sam had clung to Dean, aching with the knowledge that he was going to hurt him. He hadn’t wanted it to end. 

Robert had been there, when they came out of the car, still rearranging their clothes. He looked at them funny, but if he’d known anything, seen anything…he didn’t say. He just told them dinner was ready. 

“I suppose by now you’ve figured me out.” Robert said, sitting in the chair at the end of the table. “Figured Dean would remember eventually, so I should just get on with it. He’s sleeping. Like a little baby.”

Sam glared at him and Robert smiled. “I know what you’re thinking, Sammy. How’s a guy like me get involved in something like this?” He set his phone down on the table and spun it. “Really…it’s not that difficult. I wanted something. This man promised me I could have it. All I had to do was give him a little information. But you Winchesters are more trouble than you're worth. And I didn’t figure on your father crawling back to you after you ran away.”

Sam worked at the knot behind his back and tried to listen for some sound to indicate Dean was awake and moving around. Dean didn’t sleep that easily anymore. Not that quickly. Not without Sam or their father nearby. “Just relax, it will all be over soon enough, and neither one of you will need to remember any of this.”

Robert stroked a hand over Sam’s face and Sam froze, his eyes climbing up to Robert’s face. “If Gorlian hadn’t insisted that Dean be purchased and proven in his role before they picked you up, you probably would never have found him.”

Sam stopped struggling and stared at him. Robert smiled, looking a lot like his father with the dark dusting of hair on his chin and the sparkle in his eyes. “Yes, Sammy. You. That was my price. I gave them Dean, and I got you in return. Pretty sweet deal if you ask me.”

Robert got up and paced around the kitchen. “Funny really. They’d been tailing your ass since you left Stanford. Lost you though when you went underground in LA. You had them fooled. But not me. I saw the video of you getting out of the car, and I knew. Took me a while to figure out which way you’d go. But you boys have patterns. I figured it wouldn’t take long for you to turn up in one of the spots you go to ground.”

Robert stopped near the sink to look out the window. “Then, I got lucky. Your old man called my old man. I gave him the phone more than a year ago. Bugged it. Wasn’t even sure yet I’d go through with it.” He turned to face Sam and smiled. “Of course, I didn’t expect to have to trap you myself. You weren’t even supposed to see me until you were delivered all broken and programmed and ready to be mine forever.”

 

“Dad?” Dean kept his voice low and tried to keep the panic out of his voice. “Dad…there’s someone here. He has Sam.” His father’s voice was comforting, deep and rumbling through the phone as he asked Dean where he was. “The bedroom. They’re in the kitchen. I don’t know what to do.”

Dean stared at the phone for a minute when his father told him to leave, to use the escape route out Bobby’s bedroom window. “I have to take care of Sam.”

Dean felt panic creeping up inside him as he moved back to the door. He couldn’t leave Sam. His father was telling him to leave Sam and go hide. Hide in the yard. “What about Sam?” He listened as his father told him what to do, then hung up the phone and stuffed into his pocket. 

Get a gun. Dad had a gun under his pillow. Dean slipped as quietly as he could over the worn old boards of the hallway and into his father’s room. Dean tucked the gun in the back of his jeans. Out Bobby’s bedroom window, down the trellis and into the yard. 

He had a vague recollection of doing this before, as he climbed from the window to the ledge and over to the trellis. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to go get Sam, to take out Robert and rescue his brother. But his father had ordered him into hiding. Ordered. Commanded. Dean hovered behind a big oak tree, absently petting the head of Dryfus, the massive mastiff who prowled the back side of the house.

It was mid-afternoon. His father was at least another 3 hours away. Sam was alone with someone who Dean remembered…only he wasn’t really sure what he remembered. 

_“We both know he’s worth three times what anyone would pay for me. He’s the holy grail of pretty boys. Even his own brother can’t keep his hands off him.”_

Robert had been there the night he was grabbed…not when he was taken…after…after the rape and the beating…after the alcohol started to wear off…before the cage. Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to remember. 

_His head was swimming, and he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t vomit again. They’d pushed him to his knees and he was cold, shivering, only vaguely aware that he was naked. He was more aware of other things…that he had been fucked, hard and without permission…that his back was bruised from the beating…that his head felt like it might just explode._

_There was a fist in his hair, pulling his head back, fingers running over his face, into his mouth. “This one was a lot of work to get our hands on, Robert.”_

_”Yeah, but look at him. I told you he was worth the effort.”_

_A familiar face was leaning into his. “And he’s a natural little cock-sucker…so he should take to his new life with ease.”_

_“You shouldn’t be so cocky. I could still put you in his place.” The one with his fist in Dean’s hair said._

_“We both know he’s worth three times what anyone would pay for me. He’s the holy grail of pretty boys. Even his own brother can’t keep his hands off him.”_

_Dean was let go then, and the darkness came…the cold, silent darkness._

Dean shivered, despite the heat. Now Robert had his hands on Sam. He couldn’t let Robert hurt his Sam…but he had orders. Growling in frustration, Dean inched backwards, keeping the tree between him and the house until he’d reached the first line of junk cars and ducked behind them. His father said hide. Dean would hide. And he would hope that Sam would be okay until help arrived.


	14. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Bobby and the other hunters race to save Sam and Dean, Dean hides and watches while Sam faces Gorlian's men alone...

The air in the van was cold. John stared out the window, couldn’t bring himself to look at Bobby, or the pictures. Beside him Bobby was seething, though John was sure it wasn’t just anger. He’d never really gotten to know Robert, but always thought him a decent enough kid…a little soft, maybe…but Sam had followed him around for years, calling him his Bobby…although Robert had never allowed anyone to call him Bobby.

He knew he should say something, but he had no words, only a hard, cold anger coiled so tight in his stomach that it hurt. He stared at the phone in his hand, willing it to ring. He could only hope that Dean did as he was told. That he’d gotten out of the house and found a decent place to hide. Robert was holding Sam, which meant he was waiting for somebody. That somebody was probably someone who would know exactly how to break Dean back to the slave he’d been on his knees with the gun in his mouth.

At least they were moving. He’d told Dean three hours. At the speed they were moving it would be closer to two. Which put them still 45 minutes away. Small consolation.

The phone buzzed and he stared at it. It was Sam’s number. “Dean?”

“I’m in the yard. Hiding. I don’t like it.”

John nodded. That was more like the old Dean than the new. That was a good sign. “You can’t go near the house Dean.”

“Sam is alone.” He could hear Dean fidgeting. “There’s a van here. Two men got out.”

“They’ll come looking for you. You have to stay hidden Dean. I can’t let them get you back.”

“What about Sam?”

John sighed. “We’re getting closer. Hopefully we’ll get there before they…before anything happens.” He didn’t have to say anything to Bobby, the van lurched forward as Bobby just stepped harder on the gas.

 

Sam turned as the front door opened and Robert went to greet the new comers. He could hear voices. He knew he had to stall for time. He’d seen movement out the window, knew Dean had gotten out of the house. With any luck he’d gotten in touch with their father and help was coming. 

Of course, whether that help would get there before Robert and his friends found Dean and hauled them both off was another question. He looked up as the three men came into the kitchen. The two new guys were big, not as tall as he was, but built like weight lifters. “This must be the new guy,” the blond one said as he came to stand in front of Sam.

“Where’s the other one?”

Robert pointed to the ceiling. “Upstairs. He was asleep when I went up to check, and he’s been quiet ever since.”

The dark haired one nodded. “You want to start with him and I’ll go fetch the other one?”

“Start?” Robert asked, looking between them.

The dark one chuckled. “Yeah, apparently the master thinks we should get started before we even pull out of here, since he managed to escape the last time. Since Dennis here got to be the first with the brother, I figured he’d like first taste of this one too.”

Sam looked up at Dennis, at his broad smile and big hands. He pulled a knife from his boot and moved behind Sam. As the other two men left the room, Dennis leaned over Sam from behind. “Give me trouble, slave, and the first thing I cut off will be your dick. Your new owner won’t mind that it’s missing. He’s more interested his own.”

 

Dean heard the yelling from the house and knew his absence had been discovered. He huddled deeper into the crevice between junked cars. He knew he should crawl into the trunk, but he wouldn’t be able to see the house, or hear…there was the sound of a body falling down the front steps and he dared a look. The big, blond was moving toward the van. Dean couldn’t tell if he was alone. 

Robert was cussing and the other man with him yelled to the blond. “Looks like the slave got out. He’s on foot though, so he won’t get far. You go on and get working. Dipshit and I will look for him.”

Dean closed his eyes. The voice was familiar. A trainer…he held the gun in his hand tightly, trying hard to regulate his breathing so that it wouldn’t give him away. He should have gone out further, hidden somewhere farther from the house. He looked down at the phone in his other hand. His father wasn’t going to get there in time.

Dean couldn’t stay hidden, not when Sam needed him. The big blond man was going to hurt Sam, and Sam was already wounded. And Sam was his. Dean tracked Robert and the other guy as they moved into the yard. He had to move when they couldn’t see him. Take the blond guy by surprise.

 

Sam groaned and tried to move. He was on his knees, his upper body positioned over some rack, his arms pinned by metal bars. His head was pounding, and his stomach churned. He vaguely remembered the needle and then the hand pressing against his bruised skull…and now he was pretty sure he was in a van, though it was dark and he couldn’t focus.

“Don’t worry…just a relaxant. Wouldn’t want to hurt you too badly…it delays the process.” 

There were hands now…or he was aware of them now, efficiently stripping him of his jeans. He fought, or tried to, but his limbs weren’t cooperating and it ended up as nothing more than shaking. “Your brother was so drunk, he couldn’t even fight back when I slammed him into daddy’s truck.”

Sam’s ankles were being locked down. He shook his head and bit at the gag. “Normally, I like to hear the sounds you make as I fuck you the first time…but we’re kind of crunched for time, and we don’t need the extra attention your screaming would bring.”

The van moved and Sam could feel the man behind him, big and looming. This couldn’t be happening. He closed his eyes and held his breath. Somewhere out in the yard, Dean was hiding. Alone. Probably scared. And if they found him…if Dean saw this happening…the damage might be more than Sam could salvage. 

“You ready, slave?” He felt the cool touch of lube, the blunt head of a cock…and panted around the gag. “You are nothing.” He shoved himself into Sam, hard and deep and Sam screamed into the fabric in his mouth. “You are no one.” He pulled out and slammed back in. Sam’s hands clenched into fists and he tried to pull away, straining muscles against he metal frame that held him. “You are alone.” One more slow, hard thrust. 

Sam’s ass burned, stretched around what felt like a massive cock. He shook his head and yelled. One massive hand was pressed against the back of his neck, the thumb strumming against the bruised knot that would plunge him back into darkness with little provocation. “Nothing.” 

His vision blurred and the voice burrowed into him keeping rhythm with the cock invading him. “No one. Alone.” The litany continued and Sam’s mind caught on an image of Dean…Dean like he’d been before Sam left for school. Dean survived this…survived it by holding on to Sam. Sam could do the same.

 

Dean stiffened, holding the trunk mostly closed as footsteps stopped nearby. A cell phone rang and the man who wasn’t Robert cursed. “No sir, we haven’t left yet. We have a problem.” There was a paused. “No sir, the slave is missing.” Another pause. “Yes, Dennis has the new recruit in the van. He’s secure and training has begun.”

Dean swallowed. He knew what that meant. The blond was raping Sam. Right there, in that van. While Dean hid like a coward. 

“Yes sir. We’ll leave now.”

“Leave? We can’t leave.” Robert protested.

“Master says we go, we go. He’s sending a full search party to look for the slave. In the meantime, he doesn’t want to lose the new one. Says he wants to get him secured and into training right away to cover the price of the other one.”

“Sam is mine.” Robert blustered, even as they were moving away.

“Only if we recapture the brother. Otherwise, you forfeit your fee. Anything he sells for over and above that will be yours, of course.”

Dean listened to them walk away and for a moment he was paralyzed with fear and indecision. They were going to leave. With Sam. He opened the phone and dialed his father’s number. “They…they’re leaving…with Sam.” His voice trembled and he hated how weak he sounded. “They…they…they’ve hurt him…I have to stop them.”

“Dean, we’re almost there.”

“Too late. You’re too late.” Dean climbed out of the trunk and inched forward. Robert was going into the house and the dark haired one was opening the van. The blond was getting out, zipping up his pants. Dean swallowed. “No. I’m not waiting.” He hung up the phone and shoved it into his pocket, then hefted the gun. He could do this. Stop them. Hold them. Save his Sam.

 

John cursed and ran a hand through his hair. They were only a few minutes away. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then dialed Caleb’s number. Caleb and Joe were in a car behind them. “There’s a van. They’ve got Sam. If it gets out before we get in, keep on them, don’t follow us.”

Dean had sounded scared and determined, a combination John did not like one bit. “Bobby, I—“

“Don’t John. Just…concentrate on your boys. Let me deal with mine.”

Bobby glanced at him, then turned back to the road. He wrenched the wheel and sent them around the corner onto the street that led to his property. John had always appreciated the distance of Bobby’s place from anywhere, but today, he feared it would cost him at least one of his sons.

 

Dean made his way closer. He watched the blond circle the van and get in behind the wheel, while the other one watched Robert emerge from the house. “You following? Or riding with?”

He was close enough. Dean raised the gun, pointing it first at Robert, then swinging it to the dark haired trainer, who stood between Dean and the driver. He took a deep breath and turned his head slightly away as he squeezed the trigger. 

The big man went down hard and Robert turned to look at him. Dean stood, abandoning his cover and shooting again. He hit the passenger door as the van roared to life. Robert dove in the open side door as the blond hit the gas and the van lurched forward. Dean shot again and again until he realized he might hit Sam. He chased after the van as it kicked up dust, screaming Sam’s name.

Dean tripped over a rock and fell into the dirt, watching helplessly as the van turned onto the main road. “Sam.” He lost Sam. He’d hidden like a coward and lost Sam. He dropped the gun in the dirt and doubled over. 

There was a groan behind him, and Dean turned. The trainer was down, but alive. He picked up the gun and got slowly to his feet. The gun shook a little in his hand as he approached. He kicked the man onto his back. Blood stained his left shoulder. Dean stepped on the wound, pressing down until the man groaned again.

“Where?”

The man’s eyes fluttered open, widening as they registered Dean’s identity. “On your knees, slave.” His voice lacked the punch to back up the words and Dean stepped harder.

“Where?”

“You should have come along peacefully boy, now your brother’s going to take your place.”

Dean screamed and kicked him in the side. “Where?”

The man rolled to escape the foot descending again and Dean kicked him hard in the ass instead. Fear and rage flowed through him as he kicked and slammed the gun against the man’s face. “My Sam. Mine. Where? Where?”

Dean was yelling and hitting and kicking and everything narrowed down to the body he was pummeling, until hands were pulling him away, dragging him off.

“Dean. Dean. Calm down. It’s Dad. Come on.” 

He looked up at his father, the rage flushing out of him and replaced with shame. “I couldn’t stop them…they took him…they took him and they…god, Dad…they…hurt him…they…” Dean sobbed and collapsed against his father, burying his face into his shirt. 

“I know. I know Dean. We’ll get him back…Okay. I promise.” John pulled him further away. “You got one of them. We’ve got people following them. We’ll catch them.”

Dean looked up as they neared the stairs into the house. Bobby was kneeling beside the trainer. Bobby. Robert’s father. “No…no…it was Robert, Dad. Robert…he….he…wanted Sam.”

John stopped and looked back at Bobby. “What do you mean?”

Dean could feel the tears and wished he could stop them. He didn’t used to cry so easily. “He…he helped them take me…and he was going to get Sam…as payment…like me…a slave…they’re going to break him and train him and give him to Robert.”

John pulled Dean close in a hug. “We aren’t going to let that happen, Dean.”

Bobby stood and came a few steps closer. “No, we aren’t. This one’s unconscious, but alive. I’m gonna need your help getting him inside.”

John nodded. “Let me get Dean settled inside. I’ll be out.”

The long drive from the main road showed signs of cars headed their way. Caleb and Joe and Gordon were following the van. The others were coming here. Dean didn’t need to see what would follow…and he felt he still needed to protect Dean from the rest of the hunters.

He took Dean up to the bedroom. “I know you’re scared for Sam, and I know you want to help him…and you will. I promise. For now though, I need you to rest. I’m going to give you something to help you sleep.”

“I don’t want it.”

John smiled and guided him to the bed. “I know. But I can’t do what I need to do and worry about you at the same time. I promise I won’t leave without you. I won’t leave you alone.”

Dean nodded and laid down on the bed, watching John cross to the dresser and the med kit. “I wanted to kill him.” Dean said softly as John came back. “I would have if you didn’t stop me.”

John nodded and swiped an alcohol pad over Dean’s arm. “I know.”

Dean stiffened as he remembered the overheard conversation. “They’re coming…a team is coming to find me.”

“We won’t let them get you.” He pushed the needle into Dean’s arm.

“Bobby…he’s Robert’s dad…” Dean’s eyes swam as the drug entered his blood stream.

“I trust Bobby, Dean.” And he did. He could see the hurt and betrayal in his friend’s eyes, feel the pain and despair whenever Bobby looked at him. 

“Sam.” Dean’s eyes were closed, the worry slowly easing from his face.

“I know.” John said, swallowing the tears at the thought of what Sam was going through. He had to put it aside and go down stairs and deal with everyone. Deal with Bobby. Deal with this fucking asshole he’d wanted to let Dean keep beating. Because he was their link to Sam. He waited until he was sure Dean was asleep, then headed back downstairs. 

By the time he got outside, cars were stopping and hunters were emerging. He didn’t speak as he and Bobby lifted the man and carried him inside. Cut ropes lay on the floor beside a chair and John didn’t let himself think about that…just propped the man up in the chair and held him while Bobby went for rope. Dean had kicked the shit out of him. Both eyes were black and blue and one was swollen nearly shut. His nose was broken and bloodied. The gun shot wound was dirty and still trickling blood. From what he’d seen of the beating, he probably had a few broken ribs. It wouldn’t have taken much longer for Dean to beat the man to death.

Bobby came back and John stepped away to let him tie the man to the chair. The others were trickling in, spreading out around the kitchen. Some of them were clearly armed. Ellen came to a stop beside him. “Didn’t expect you to come.” John said.

“If it were Jo, you would be here,” she replied. 

He nodded. “Where is Jo?”

“I left her with Ash. Pouting” Ellen sighed and leaned against the counter. “I couldn’t bring her. She’s hard headed enough about hunting.”

“She’s like her father.” John said as softly as he could. She didn’t stiffen, but didn’t respond either, just changed the subject.

“So, this guy?”

“Pulled Dean off him. He’s one of Gorlian’s men.”

“He gonna live?”

John looked at Ellen, then back to the man. “I really don’t know.”

 

Sam was suddenly conscious of hands on his stomach wound, probing, tracing the stitches. He tried to move, but he was secured on his back, his arms above his head, his hips and legs bound. He opened his eyes but only darkness greeted him.

“Hello again.”

Sam froze. “You remember me, of course. I am your owner, your master. You belong to me.” His fingers traced the wound. “I did this to you. Wounded you. Marked you.” His fingers moved to the “J” carved into Sam’s chest. “You are nothing. No one. Alone.”

The hand moved to circle Sam’s cock. “This is mine.” He squeezed until Sam saw stars, then moved the hand again, down between his legs, pressing a finger into his ass. “This is mine. I will do with it as I see fit.”

Sam chewed on the gag in his mouth, noticing it was a different one. He tasted leather. “You will learn to be obedient. You will learn to serve your master.”

The hand was gone then. “I have no patience for you, slave. You have stolen from me and killed my men. I will not be lenient.” 

The room was quiet, then Sam heard a door. “No food or water. No contact. I want him disoriented and weakened for the next round. Line up five of your best trainers. I want him broken a hell of a lot faster than his brother. And get Thomas down here. He’s going to need a strong handler.”

Sam listened as the door closed. At least they weren’t touching him…Dean was still free…and they would come for him. A few days with no food in the dark…they would find him. His heart raced and doubt nibbled at him…but he held to that thought. They were looking…and they would find him. They had to….because Sam wasn’t Dean…and he really didn’t know how much of this he could take before he fell apart.


	15. Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean remembers and it changes everything.

_”You think I don’t know what it is you two do out there?” Robert asked, stopping Dean._

_He was already upset after Sam told him about Stanford, and he wanted to get them out of there and meet up with their father. He didn’t want to deal with this. “I haven’t got any clue what you think about, Robert. I never have.”_

_“You know Sammy loves me.” Robert said. “He always has.”_

_Dean sighed. “Sam thought you were fun to hang around, especially cause you didn’t want to work on cars with your old man like I did.”_

_“No.” Robert stepped closer. “It was more than that. And you know it.” Robert poked Dean in the chest. “That’s why you did it. Why you take him out there and touch him…why you make him touch you. You’re a sick fuck.”_

_Dean took a step back, and turned away, clenching his teeth. “You’ve lost your mind, Robert.” It wasn’t true. It was Sam who had started it. It was Sam who touched him and begged…but it pegged Dean’s guilt over the whole thing pretty soundly._

_“I saw you.” His voice was anything but quiet and he was going to bring his father out to find out what the yelling was about. “I saw you this afternoon. I saw you yesterday. You fuck your own brother, Dean…you think it will make him love you.”_

_Dean’s hand formed a tight fist. “You don’t know anything.”_

_“I know that when I tell your father, he’ll never let you near him again. And I’ll be there to comfort him—“_

_Dean slammed his fist into Robert’s face, knocking him to the ground. His nose was bleeding when he looked up at Dean. “Sam’s already leaving, fuckwad. And he doesn’t want anything to do with you. Stay the hell away from us, or I’ll beat you down so far you’ll have to look up to tie your shoes.”_

Dean sat up and the room spun around him. He and Sam had left right after that. They’d never seen Robert again…until…until the night they grabbed Dean. Until Robert told them how to find Dean and how to break him…

_” Even his own brother can’t keep his hands off him.” Robert’s face was in front of him, his smile cold. “Be a good boy Dean, and I’ll take good care of Sammy for you.”_

It was his fault. Dean got up, despite the sedatives still in his system. He’d provoked Robert…pushed him. He’d thought Robert was soft…a momma’s boy. He’d never thought…and now Sam was there…Sam was going through that cold, dark first day…after having been raped and beaten…alone in the dark.

Dean’s breath came in gasps and gulps of air as he paced the room like a caged animal. He hadn’t saved him…it was his fault…right from the start. He let Sam go to Stanford. He let Sam beg him and seduce him. He let Robert go.

“Sam.” Dean moaned the name through clenched teeth. If he closed his eyes he could imagine where Sam was…the pain…the fear…and Sam knew. Sam knew what to expect. Dean hadn’t. He hadn’t known what was happening. Sam would be lying there expecting it…and Master would know that…use that…Dean swallowed the bile that rose and leaned against the window, staring out into the yard.

The fucking yard. Where he hid and waited while they raped his brother. His Sam. He hit his head against the glass twice, then a third time with more force. He heard it crack and pounded against it with his fists, breaking it and sending glass crashing to the ground. The sounds coming from him were startling…angry, growling moans that grew in volume as he grabbed the curtains and pulled. 

Memory flashed through him. Rape. His head held under water while a hand pistoned in and out of his ass. He picked the clock up off the dresser and hurled it across the room. Pictures of Sam, beaten and broken and bloody. The lamp felt heavy in his hands as he threw it out the window. The sound of his father’s voice giving him away. 

He screamed wordlessly as he pulled the mirror down and knocked everything else off the dresser…then moved to the bed, upending it and sending the frame skittering in the opposite direction as the mattress.

The moment he stopped being Dean and let himself go…when he willingly knelt and bowed his head…no more tears…no more…he opened his mouth and sucked…he offered his ass on command…he wanted…not to be free…but to belong…

Dean backed into the corner, collapsing to the floor, his knees up to his chest, his face buried in his knees as he sobbed. The whole mess…the whole fucking ordeal…his body shook with the realization that it all stemmed back to the day Sam told him he was leaving…to Robert and his jealousy…to Dean and his need to give Sammy everything…

The door burst open and there were voices. He didn’t look up…he couldn’t face them…not knowing…not remembering…everything…There were hands on his head, familiar hands. “Dean?”

“Make them go away.” Dean pleaded, gripping his knees tighter, pressing his face against his legs. “Can’t…just make them go…”

“He’s okay…give us a few minutes okay?”

“John?”

“Ellen, I’ve got him. He’s okay.”

His father’s voice rumbled around the room and it was comforting. The door closed and John’s hands soothed over Dean’s head. Dean leaned into the touch…until he remembered…”Oh, god…Dad…” 

He raised his tear streaked face. “I—God…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.” He was still shaking as John dropped to his knees. “I can’t…I should never…god…what did I do to you?” He could hear the pain in his father’s voice when he came into the bedroom and he had offered himself…

“Dean…it’s okay…”

“No…no…god…Dad…you don’t…you don’t know…” Dean closed his eyes and licked his lips, but it only reminded him of how they used his mouth…how he let them…He groaned. “Robert…knew…he saw…and I hit him…and it’s my fault…it’s all my fault because I didn’t stop it…I didn’t…stop it when I should have…”

“Dean…this isn’t your fault. Robert…well, he’s a sick fuck and—“

Dean groaned again at the words and covered his face. “He was jealous…because Sam…he thought Sam wanted him…that Sam loved him…but Sam…” He looked up at his father, panic running through him. His father didn’t know about him and Sam. “He thought I was the reason Sam didn’t want him.”

John turned away, his eyes closing as Dean’s reaction and words sank in. “Dean…it…isn’t your fault…none of it.” 

Dean reached out for his father’s hand. “I remember. Dad. I remember.”

John looked back at him, at his hand in Dean’s. “What do you remember?”

Dean’s gaze faltered, and his hand squeezed John’s. “All of it.” He choked back more tears. “We have to…we have to get to Sam…before…” He swallowed and pulled himself to his feet. “They’ve already started…they…god, they raped him before they pulled out of here…while I was…hiding.” Dean’s head bowed and his shoulder’s shook. “I was fucking hiding.”

John was behind him. “I told you to.”

“This is so…fucked up…” Dean scrubbed his face and turned to face his father. “The asshole I beat the shit out of…has he talked?”

John nodded slowly. “Starting to. Caleb called too. We have a location. We’re not sure how long they’ll keep him there.”

Dean nodded. “What about the search party they were sending?”

John squinted at him. “Rounding them up now.”

“I—I need a shower and…something to eat…and we need to…” He caught himself on the window sill as a wave of dizziness swept over him. 

“You need more sleep.”

Dean shook his head. “No. I want to be part of this.”

“You will be, Son. But that was a pretty powerful sedative I gave you, and it’s only been a few hours.”

“Sam…we have to get there before they go to the third phase.”

“Third?”

Dean nodded, picking his way across the remains of the room. “The first was…the capture and rape and a pretty thorough beating. Then they’ll drug him and lock him up in the dark…then…they’ll start breaking him…” Dean was moving down the hall toward John’s room. “And…Sam…I won’t let him…I won’t let them do that to him.”

He was shaking again as he reached the door to John’s room. John cupped a hand to his face. “Okay. You, sleep for a few hours. Shower. Get yourself ready. I’m going to go downstairs and check on our progress, okay?”

Dean nodded stiffly and tried to keep the images of his interactions with his father in that room at bay. He yawned and let his father support him to the bed. “I promise, we’re not going anywhere without you. Sleep. When you’re ready, we will be too.”

 

The light was blinding. He had no concept of time, other than the fact that he’d been there long enough to need to relieve himself. He blinked in the light and fought against the bindings as his arms were pulled up over his head and he was slowly pulled up off his knees and then higher, until only his toes were scraping the ground. 

“I am Thomas, your handler. I will be the one who gives you food, the one who gives you punishment, I will be the one who decides when you sleep and when you shit and when you get hosed down.”

Sam tried to find the source of the voice, only to be rewarded with a hard slap of something stiff against his ass. “Master James informs me that unlike most recruits, you have an idea what is in store for you. Let me assure you, you have no idea.” He hit Sam again, three hard blows across his ass and lower back. “This is the paddle. It will cause pain and bruising. It also turns your skin a lovely shade of red. It is the first tool of punishment. It is used for general explanation of your position here and minor infractions.” He hit Sam several more times until Sam was yelling into the gag.

He moved in front of Sam and pulled his face down. “The first rule is you are nothing. You get no choice in what happens to you, in what you eat. You are no one. Master James decides who fucks you and how. You are alone. I am the closest thing you have to a friend…and I don’t like you all that much.”

Thomas used the paddle over Sam’s thighs and ass and back until Sam stopped yelling and fell silent, his throat raw and stripped. Then his hands roamed over Sam’s body, two fingers pressing into his ass, then withdrawing. There was an odd popping sound and Sam was crashing to the floor. “I suggest you sleep. The next time someone enters your cage, it will be to fuck you senseless.”

 

Dean stood under the flow of water in the shower and tried to let it wash away his fear, his revulsion of what he had become. His dreams had been a melee of memory and visions of Sam. He could hear the rumble of voices from down stairs. He was going to have to go down there and face them…knowing that they knew what had happened, what he was…at least in the most generic sense. 

He was going to have to face his father, and Bobby. Bobby. Dean squeezed his eyes shut tighter and stuck his head under the water. He tried to not obey the conditioning, not scrub himself as he’d been trained to…but it calmed him…and he didn’t want to think about that. Too much time had passed already. It was dark outside. Sam had been gone for nearly 12 hours. 

Twelve hours. 

Dean winced and shifted to rinse the soap off of his skin. The sooner he got down there…the sooner he proved to his father that he was strong enough, the sooner they’d be moving toward Sam. He turned off the water and stepped out, drying himself rapidly and turning to the steam fogged mirror. He wiped it with one hand and stared at himself. There was a vague bruise on his forehead, left over from banging his head against the motel room wall, and aggravated by his hitting it against the window. 

A day’s growth was on his chin and he felt the compulsion to shave it clean, but resisted. It was a small rebellion. A little taste of not obeying the conditioning. He grimaced and fought picking up the razor. Sam was counting on him. Waiting for him.

He dressed as quickly as he could, despite the fact that he didn’t have anything clean. He pulled on the jeans he’d worn the day before and a t-shirt he took from his father’s bag. He shoved his feet into a pair of his father’s socks and the sneakers Sam had bought for him, trying not to remember that day….

_“Hey, I got you some clothes.” Sam put the packages on the bed and crossed to where Dean was huddling in the corner, naked again, the collar around his neck, his head bent forward on his knees. “Dean?”_

_It had been three days, and Dean was lost inside a haze of confusion and need so thick he wasn’t sure which way was out…or even if he wanted out…let alone who he really was._

_“Tell me what’s wrong Dean.”_

He’d been so far gone…let himself disappear so much he didn’t know his own name…didn’t recognize Sam as Sam…didn’t realize how scared his brother was for him. He did now. He could look back at those first days and see Sam’s fear, his pain and frustration. Dean took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together. He had to be strong, had to find the Dean he’d been before so that he could save Sam.

That wasn’t as easy as it sounded, and his stomach lurched at the thought of Sam in the hands of those men. But…he found something resembling strength in his determination and opened the bedroom door.

The old clock in the living room downstairs was chiming 4am as he came to the bottom of the stairs. His eyes swept the room, the hunters sleeping in spots on the floor and the couch. He turned into the kitchen and this time eyes swept over him. Bobby…his face drawn, tired and angry and hurt. A woman he didn’t know…her eyes tender, soft. His father. He met John’s eyes and nodded. “I’m okay.” Dean murmured.

It was a façade…and he was fairly certain his father saw through it, but John nodded. “We’re almost ready to move out.”

“Where are they?” Dean asked.

“Out back, in the shed.”

Dean nodded and picked up his father’s gun. He was out the door and nearly to the shed before his father caught up with him. “What are you doing, Dean?”

“Killing the sons of bitches.” Dean moved around his father and continued toward the shed. The hunter standing guard looked familiar, and he stood in Dean’s way. 

“Dean, you can’t just kill them.”

“Did you get anything from them?”

“A little. Not much.”

“They aren’t going to talk, and the police can’t hold them. What do you suggest we do? Hold them here in Bobby’s shed forever?”

“Until we get Gorlian.” 

Dean shook his head. “We won’t get Gorlian. Not today.”

“These are men, Dean.”

Dean looked up at his father. “No. Dad. They aren’t. They’re monsters. Monsters who did things to me that you can’t even begin to imagine. That did those things to hundreds of others. They would do those things to Sam.” He turned to the hunter. “Move.”

He looked to John who sighed and must have nodded, though Dean wasn’t looking to see. He pulled the door open and stepped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the even dimmer dark inside. Five men knelt on the floor, bound and gagged. The trainer Dean had shot earlier lay on the floor beside them.

He swallowed. He lifted the gun. This time he didn’t close his eyes or turn away. He shot, and shot again…the gun echoing in the tiny space, two bullets each, one in the heart, one in the head. Dead. Quick. Too good for any of them…but it was enough. The last man whimpered, his eyes flashing to Dean’s, begging. He could feel his father behind him, watching. 

He looked over his shoulder. John held another gun, leveled at the last man. Dean stepped away and his father shot. One bullet. Right between the eyes. Dean lowered the gun in his hand and turned to his father. “Now, we go get Sam.”

John nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

 

He wasn’t sure how much of Dean’s demeanor was a front, and how much was real. Something had definitely changed, something had snapped him out of the mental state he’d been in, and even if it wasn’t _Dean_ , he certainly wasn’t the same. Broken, hurting, guilty…and yet, able to kill…able to function and understand the complexities of the situation. John glanced aside at him as they loaded up in cars. Four men per car, loaded with guns and ammo and explosives.

The intel they had from Caleb and Joe said that there was a large facility on a ranch outside of Sharon, a three and a half hour drive south. Large and heavily guarded. If Dean was right about the timing, they should get there before…John shook his head. Before Sam was hurt any more than he’d already been…and then…there would be a war.

 

_Nothing. No one. Alone._

Dean’s voice played in his head as he lay there on the cold metal floor. It was a haunting reminder of what was in store for him. His arms were still bound, metal restraints digging into his skin. He pulled them closer to his body, listening to the sound as metal scraped across metal. It was the only thing he’d heard since Thomas left. 

His body hurt. Muscles alternately on fire and frozen, joints stiff from cold. His stomach reeled from the drugs and from the pain in his head. His side hurt, the stitches dry and pulling on his skin. He didn’t know how long he’d laid there, but in his stupor he’d defecated all over himself and peed and he lay in it now, unable to move.

_Nothing. No one. Alone._

It was easy to see how this worked…how they broke down the sense of self…how they took away everything, even control over something as simple as relieving onself.

Easy to see…and impossible to evade. Just like that cock that had raped him. Impossible to avoid. He was trapped. Sam tried not to let the panic set in, tried to breathe through it, but the stench was overwhelming and he found himself throwing up, moving his head enough to not drown in it. 

“Dean…” The only image he could find in his head to hold onto was of Dean, naked and broken and waiting…waiting to be owned. “Dean.” He held on to it anyway, because it was Dean, his brother…his everything…and he would be damned if he was going to give in that easily. He was a Winchester after all. He could survive this. 

Ever so slowly, he pulled himself away from the mess, blindly groping his way to the walls of his cage. His fingers curled around the bars and he held on while his head swam. Dean’s cage had been unlocked. He had to remember that. Had to remember it when he could stand again. When every movement wasn’t threatening to send him back into unconsciousness.

For now…he welcomed that swallowing dark…folded into it, whispering Dean’s name.


	16. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunters assemble in Sharon, and Sam's training gets kicked up a notch.

The car was far too quiet. It made John uneasy. He sat beside Dean and watched him. Ellen was driving and Bobby hadn’t said a word since they’d gotten into the car. Dean likewise hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t reverted to that eerie silence where he seemed to just stop existing until someone gave him an order, but he stared out the window, one knee drawn up to his chest.

The one time he’d looked at John, he’d looked…broken, haunted…there just weren’t any words for that expression. John sighed and looked out his own window. They were still a good half hour from the turn off to Sharon. Daylight had climbed up the horizon and settled in the sky, but it still felt dark. 

Everything felt dark, if he let himself think about Sam…about his boy alone in the hands of the men who had managed to break Dean…because Sam…he wasn’t weak…his strength was just…different from Dean’s. And…there was the matter of his illusion…and the way he’d killed those men. As hard as it was for Dean, it had been a business…John was afraid that breaking Sam would be personal for Gorlian.

Of course…that also meant they might just get Gorlian, no matter what Dean said. If he wanted Sam…he might just be there. Maybe. John turned to look at Dean again.

“I’m okay.” Dean said softly without looking.

“We’ll get him, Dean.”

Dean inhaled slowly and turned, his eyes lingering on the back of Bobby’s head before they met John’s. “It’s going to be bloody.”

John nodded. “I know.”

“You need to make sure the rest of them know too. No one lives.”

“Dean—“

He turned back to the window. “No one. It’s the only way. They won’t stop. Getting Sam back is only the beginning. It won't be over until we bring it all down.”

 

Sam fought to breathe as the water beat over him, slamming into his face, over his chest, pounding against bruised flesh. He hung from his wrists in the cage as two burly men hosed him down and Thomas stood by, a black, leather-swathed crop in his hands.

When he nodded the water simply stopped and Sam shook his head. The two men left the room and Thomas moved closer. “You broke the rules, slave. You made a mess of your cage and yourself. You will be punished.”

Sam held his breath in anticipation and just as he was forced to exhale it came, fire came lancing across his wet ass. He jumped, his body swinging forward and then back, right into the second blow. He couldn’t keep from yelling as three more bit into his back.

Thomas came around in front of Sam, grabbing his face as Sam was slowly lowered. “You shit when and where I say. Do that again and you’ll get ten lashes.”

Sam forced his eyes to meet the handler’s. “Fuck you.”

Thomas’s hand grabbed Sam’s dick and yank down hard. “You don’t speak, slave. You are nothing. No one.”

“My name is Sam.”

He didn’t anticipate the punch that snapped his head to the side or the rapid drop to his knees. Then Thomas was behind him, holding his head, his thumb pressing into Sam’s mouth. “Drew, you’re up.”

One of the water guys came back in, stopping in front of Sam. “Show this slave what his mouth is meant to be used for.”

Sam bucked back, but Thomas held him tight, his thumb and the pressure of his fingers against Sam’s neck forcing him to open his mouth as Drew unzipped his pants. Sam’s head was tight against Thomas’s stomach as Drew’s cock moved in. He tried to close his mouth, tried to turn his head.

Drew laughed as the head of his cock passed Sam’s lips and Sam bucked again. “Nothing comes out of that mouth unless you’re given direct instruction.” Thomas said as Drew pressed in past Sam’s gag reflex and held himself until Sam was struggling for air. “You do not speak unless asked a direct question that requires a direct answer.”

Drew pulled out, but before Sam could adjust was shoving himself back inside. “You are nothing. No one. Alone.”

Sam closed his eyes and fought the urge to fight…he thought about his father…about Dean. This was nothing. He could handle this. He could imagine it was Dean, swallow…breathe…relax his jaw. Dean, who loved to hold his head while he came…He could block out the litany of words and just forget.

 

“John.” Ellen’s voice was soft and low and it brought John to lean forward. “That Caleb’s car?”

John followed the headlights off to the car in question. “Yeah.”

“Where’s Caleb?” Ellen asked as she eased them off the road.

“And Joe.” John was out of the car almost before it was stopped, tromping over gravel and dirt to peer into the windows. It was locked up tight. John frowned and looked up over the car at the property. A long dirt road led from a front gate back to what looked for all the world like a horse ranch. 

Ellen stopped beside him and shaded her eyes to look across the distance between them and the first building. “You think they tried to get closer?”

“I don’t know. He should have called. He knew we would be coming.”

“Caleb aint the impulsive kind.” Bobby said as he joined them. “He’d be here waiting for us.”

“Unless he saw something. If he saw Sam, he might...” Dean said. Behind them other cars were slowing, then moving on…no point making it obvious, if someone was watching, and someone was likely watching. They would circle around, find other ways in.

John’s eyes were already picking out security cameras and guards and counting the people moving around in plain sight. Even with everyone, they wouldn’t be enough. Dean was right when he said it would be bloody.

John started when his pocket vibrated, then pulled out the cell phone. “Joe?” He squinted against the glare of the sun, then nodded. “Caleb?” He nodded again. “No, stay put. I’m going to need to…get back to you.”

He closed the phone. “Joe’s about halfway between here and the second gate…in the grass. Caleb went around the other side to make sure they didn’t have another way off the property. Nothing’s left since they got here.”

“So…what next?” Ellen asked.

“Recon. We need to know what we’re getting into.” John turned back to their car. “Ellen, I’m going to need you to be our center. We’ll get you to a safe distance and set you up in the van. We’ll set up in teams of two and start in from the perimeter at every side.”

Dean stood next to Caleb’s car, staring at the ranch. “Dean?”

“Not leaving.”

“You can’t stay here, Dean.”

“There isn’t time, Dad. I—Sam needs us now.”

Ellen put a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Getting yourself caught won’t help Sam, honey. Your daddy’s right. We need more information, or we’re just asking to get slaughtered.”

“I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.” Dean said, letting Ellen turn him around. “Like…it isn’t enough…and we’re too late…”

Ellen stroked a hand over his head and drew him back toward the car they’d come in. “Its okay, Dean. Sam is going to be fine.”

Dean blinked back tears and nodded shakily. John could see he didn’t believe it. Not for a minute. Neither did John. Or Ellen. He could see it in her eyes as she looked up at him. 

John flipped his cell open and called to relay the plan to the rest of the hunters. He didn’t look at the ranch as they pulled away. He didn’t look at Dean either. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to leave.

 

It was dark. Cold. He was on his knees. His hands were behind his back. Words tumbled through him endlessly. Rules. Insults. _Nothing. No one. Alone_. Obey. Submit.

He shifted on his knees and was rewarded with a stinging pain in his shins. Don’t move. Every movement meant pain. Punishment. 

It was disorienting…the dark, the sound that filled the entire space. 

Something changed, the sound…the voice. It was different. Sam’s breathing sped up. It was Dean.

Dean’s voice. _Nothing. No one. Alone._ It was flat and dry…but Dean… _A slave is obedient_. Sam bit down on the leather in his mouth until it was cutting into his lips. _A slave submits to his master._ He’d hear the words before…but this was different. _A slave wishes only to please his master_

Sam could see Dean…on his knees, begging to be punished. _Nothing. No one. Alone._ The drugs they’d pumped into him made thinking hard…already he found his mind repeating the words as they were recited. 

He’d almost prefer the beating…except he wasn’t sure he could take any more of that. His back and ass and thighs were bruised and covered in welts. His broken nose throbbed and his head pounded. 

Abruptly, the lights came up and the sound stopped. Sam squeezed his eyes closed, trying not to anticipate what was coming next. He could tell this wasn’t the same program they’d put Dean through…modified to keep him guessing…sped up because James was unhappy. 

Thomas entered the cage, tapping his crop against his boot. “On your feet.”

Sam squinted up at him and weighed the price of disobeying, but figured it would just get him more pain and lurched up. “That’s a good boy. Learning is fun, isn’t it?”

Sam glared at him and Thomas laughed. “Come on then. Master James wishes to see you.” He waved a hand at the door and Sam took a moment to realize he was meant to go through the door. Thomas shoved him and Sam stumbled, only barely ducking his head in time to keep from hitting it on the low door. “Fucking giant.” Thomas murmured as he followed, poking Sam with the crop to keep him moving.

It wasn’t a long walk, and Thomas stopped him in front of a set of double doors. They opened without sound and he pulled Sam inside, waiting for the doors to close before the next set of doors opened. The room those doors revealed was posh, elegant even. White carpeting and walls, with soft wood accents and a fire place casting a warm wash of red over beige couches and pillows. In a giant arm chair, James sat, legs crossed, his suit a perfect match to the room.

“Thank you Thomas. You may present him.”

Thomas inclined his head and pushed Sam forward until he was arm’s reach from James. “On your knees boy.” His hand on Sam’s shoulder encouraged obedience and Sam sank to his knees. “He hasn’t learned his postures, yet, sir.”

James examined his nails. “Well, it has only been eighteen hours or so, Thomas. I’m impressed with what you’ve done.”

“Thank you sir. You did say I could go as hard as I needed to get the job done…and you did mention breaking the record.”

James smiled wickedly. “Indeed. I’ll triple your bonus if you break it. I’m looking forward to the day this one presents himself to me.”

Sam growled around the gag and James flicked his eyes over him. “Hasn’t learned to keep quiet though?”

“Says the foulest things, sir. I’ve chosen to keep his mouth shut when it isn’t filled with dick.”

“Very good, Thomas. And we’ve filled it?”

“Yes sir. Drew and Dennis both.”

James nodded. “And his ass?”

Sam fumed, unconsciously pulling at the restraints keeping his wrists behind his back. “Yes sir…aside from Dennis and Robert during transport, we’ve had two others in him.”

“Very good. I’d like to keep to that pace for now.” James uncrossed his legs and looked at Sam. “Now, slave. I’ve had to go out of my way with you, had to change my pace and do things the sloppy way. I am not happy about this.”

He picked up a remote and pressed a button. “My consolation is that it won’t be long and I’ll have your brother back in my possession. I did so love to watch his lips around my dick.” A door opened and two men bullied a third into the room. “Now, to facilitate our progress, I’ve developed a new training technique.”

The man was hidden under a black hood and forced to his knees beside James, who’s hand went out to caress his head through the fabric. 

Sam stared at him, then back at James. His breathing was erratic, irrational fear filling him. It wasn’t Dean. Not tall enough…and James had just admitted they didn’t have him. It was someone else.

James smiled. “I’ve got your interest, don’t I? I thought I might. This is our newest guest. He was caught outside our facility in Sharon. Snooping around. He’s not…our type…a little old for the training…and not what our clients are looking for. But, I thought I recognized him and after reviewing some security footage, I realized he could be useful.”

He pulled the hood off and Sam started. Caleb’s face was bloody and swollen, the gag cutting into his cheeks. He saw Sam and shook his head, pulling away from James’s hand as it stroked his head.

“I see you two do know one another. Excellent.” His eyes flashed with excitement as he looked back at Sam. “From this moment on, this thing is your responsibility. Every punishment you earn, will be given to him as well. For every blow you earn, he will receive two.”

Sam’s eyes flashed to Caleb’s, then back to James. He shook his head. “Oh yes, slave. Yes. And you will watch and listen. He will be kept in your cage and witness your obedience or disobedience. And we will start now. Thomas, remove his gag.”

Sam worked his jaw as the leather was removed. “You have been trained in the first rule. You will repeat it.”

Sam looked at Caleb until Thomas forcefully turned his head back to James. “What are you slave?” Thomas asked, his crop resting on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam clenched his teeth. He couldn’t say it…”No.”

He stiffened as the two blows landed, one on each shoulder. Before he could react Thomas landed four on Caleb’s shoulders. “What are you?”

Sam closed his eyes. He didn’t have to mean it. He could…He licked his lips. “Nothing,” he whispered it and Thomas gripped his chin.

“I don’t think your Master heard you. What are you?”

“Nothing. No one.” Sam gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I think this will work nicely.” James said. “Now, turn and show me how Thomas has disciplined you. This is the presentation posture. On your knees, ankles together, knees apart, head down. If your hands were free you would use them to spread your ass for my inspection.”

Sam shook as he moved…as he obeyed. He could feel Caleb’s eyes burning on his skin as he settled into the position and lowered his head. “Very pretty, Thomas. Let’s be sure we don’t break the skin. I don’t want you marking him.” Sam heard the rustle of linen as James stood. “Take them back to their cage. Keep the whipping boy chained in the corner and gagged. Let’s see how this one can keep his tongue now.”

“Yes sir.”

“And, we’ll continue withholding food and water for the time being.”

“Yes sir.”

 

“This can’t be right.” John said, looking at the blueprints spread out on the hood of the car. 

“Well, they wouldn’t necessarily have all that hidden stuff like Dean was describing on the official blueprints, right?” 

“Suppose not.” John looked them over. “Okay. We go in here.” He pointed with two fingers to a building that was dressed up to look like stables, but which had a lot of power lines feeding in to it. His phone rang and he pulled it out. “Joe?”

He looked around the five or six hunters milling around. “No. He isn’t here. Isn’t he answering his cell?” He lowered the phone. “Hank, you seen Caleb?”

The hunter with the scar across his lower face shook his head. “No. Wasn’t he on recon?”

John shook his head. “He’s not at his post.”

“That’s not good.”

“Joe, come on back. We’ll find him.”

“We can’t keep losing folk like this.” Ellen said, approaching him with a cup of coffee. 

“If they caught him, they’ll know we’re coming.” Bobby pulled his hat off and scratched at his head. “Could be a trap waiting.”

John nodded and scanned the area for Dean. He was sitting off by himself, on the trunk of one of the cars. “We have to assume they know.” Dean had been quiet again since they left the driveway into the ranch. John was worried.

“You can’t cut him out of this.” Ellen said, following his gaze. 

“He’s so fragile right now.”

“And that’s his brother out there. The one who came for him, the one who found him.”

John sighed. “I know.” He pulled a hand through his hair. “I just…I’m a little lost here.”

She hesitated just a second, then pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him and holding him until he could breathe on his own again. “We’re all here with you. Just…remember that boy needs you…maybe even more than Sam does right now.”

He turned back to the blueprints. “Okay. Here. And here.” He pointed to the second likely target. “Dean says that Sam’s probably relatively safe right now. That they use the first few days to disorient and weaken them…so…we wait until dusk. If they know we’re coming, let’s make them wait, and hit them when it’s to our advantage. After all, we hunt things that live in the dark.”

Ellen nodded, her hand still on John’s arm, warm and comforting. “Okay. Let’s lay out perimeter watches and trade off on two hour shifts. It’s noon now. Sun goes down in seven hours. We assemble in six. Whoever’s not on watch get some sleep. That goes double for you, and Dean.”

John wanted to argue…but he was exhausted. “There was a motel down the way. You take Dean and go. I’ll hold down the fort here.”

“You sure?”

She smiled at him and he was reminded how much he’d always loved her smile. It reminded him of Mary. “Go on. I don’t want you going in there all sleep deprived.”

He nodded. She was right. “Dean, come on. Call me if anything changes.”

Ellen nodded and watched him go. Dean followed without argument, without much movement that wasn’t necessary. She sighed and turned to her other patient. “And what about you?”

Bobby stared blindly at the ground. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

He looked up at her. “He’s my boy.” He leaned harder against the car. “He’s my boy and he…deserves to die. If Dean don’t kill him…god, how does this happen? How?” He crossed his arms and scowled. “How does my boy turn into someone who could do this?”

“You didn’t do this, Bobby. You have to let him take the blame.”

There were tears in his eyes when he looked up. “He’s my boy.” He stalked away, leaving her with the softly rustling blue prints and a schedule to create…and knowing that no matter what happened six hours from now, it would only be the beginning.


	17. Conflagration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunters are set up, and Dean takes matters into his own hands to get his Sammy back.

Dean knew he should be trying to sleep. He’d pretended to until his father was asleep, so that he wouldn’t get sedated again. He didn’t want the drugs interfering later. His father was restless, but sleeping. Dean stood at the window of the small motel room, staring out.

Somewhere out there Sam was waiting for him to find him. He couldn’t shake the fear that they were missing something…that he was forgetting something. He rubbed a finger over the ring his father had given him. Maybe he was wishing he could forget something.

He moved the hand so that he could see the ring. His father had seen him at his most vulnerable, when enough of the conditioning had been eroded that he was confused, and enough of his memory was still so far away that he had no grounding in who he used to be…and he’d given him something to hold on to…a memory of his mother…of the woman she had been. 

It hadn’t felt right at the time, but now…he rubbed his thumb over the flat surface and tried to picture her…the vague memory of a four year old conjuring her up as he’d last seen her, blond hair hanging as she bent down to kiss him, her white nightgown gleaming in the nightlight in his room. She’d bought the ring, had it engraved with the “W” that still marked it’s surface. Her hands had held it. The weight of it on his finger tied him to her…to them…his mother and his father…his Sam…to the family they had been…before.

Before.

He closed his eyes. His Sam. Robert had done this for Sam. He had to have been planning it for more than a year. Dean wasn’t sure what was worse, the idea of Sam belonging to Robert…or the thought of him being sold to some stranger.

No. He wasn’t going to let either of those happen. He was going to find him. And when he did…when Sam was safe…anyone who’d laid a hand on him was going to die. His hand fell on the gun tucked into his belt. 

A part of him felt sick over the killing. Unarmed men. Bound and gagged and he’d just…pulled the trigger. It didn’t make him feel better…or stronger…or anything in particular at all at the time. It was an extermination.

He shifted his weight and spared a glance back at his father. That was how they had to see it. Anyone they left alive was a threat. The organization was so big that the only way to destroy it was to literally destroy it. Taking down Gorlian wouldn’t stop it. Killing Master—killing James wouldn’t end it. 

They had to annihilate them. His father’s cell phone started to ring and Dean reached for it, flipping it open. “Yeah?”

Ellen’s voice filled his ear. There was movement at the ranch. A lot of movement. They needed to go. Now. “We’re on our way.”

John was sitting up. “They’re moving.” Dean tossed him the phone and picked up the keys to the car. “I’ll drive.”

 

Sam sat huddled in the corner of the cage, his knees drawn up, his arms wrapped loosely around his knees. It felt odd to not be bound or gagged or blinded. He stared at Caleb chained to the opposite corner. 

The older man was chained flat to the bars, standing, his arms over his head. He wore white cotton pants that looked like pajama bottoms and nothing else, except the gag. It had been hours since Thomas had deposited him there and told him not to move or talk. 

Dean’s voice had cycled through the rules twice and then disappeared. Sam’s stomach was growling now that the drugs had worked their way of his system. He lifted his head and saw Caleb flinch.

Sam opened his mouth…ready to say something…anything. Caleb’s eyes met his and he shook his head. It wasn’t worth the punishment. He tried to apologize with just his eyes. Caleb couldn’t know just how much of this was Sam’s fault. Sam was still trying to put the pieces together.

It came down to that last trip to Bobby’s, the summer before Stanford. He’d been more needy of Dean than normal, because he knew he was going to break Dean’s heart. He hadn’t said more than a few words to Robert when he showed up, because he was supposed to meet Dean out at the car…their car…and at dinner, Robert had been quiet and he and Bobby were fighting. Sam hadn’t expected him to stay…but he did…and Sam had dozed off watching TV after Dean went to bed.

_The couch moved and Sam stirred, half waking to see Robert flopped on the other end of the couch. “Wanted to talk to you.”_

_Sam inhaled and shifted to something closer to sitting. “Yeah?”_

_“Figure you’re old enough now.”_

_Sam frowned at him and glanced at the television. Some bad late night movie was on almost soundlessly. “Old enough?”_

_Robert’s hand was on Sam’s thigh. “Yeah…to tell you.” He licked his lips. “I like you Sam.”_

_Sam pulled his leg away. “The hell?”_

_Robert moved closer. “I mean…I’m attracted to you.”_

_Sam closed his eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. “Dude…I’m…flattered…and everything…but…”_

_Robert’s hand was on his knee and he was scooting still closer. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time…but I was afraid you’d…”_

_Sam stood, pulling away. “Yeah, cause…I’m not…I’m not gay, Robert. And…no, not that its…I mean…I’m fine with the idea…but…whew…” He ran a hand through his hair as Robert stood, coming after him as he backed away. “Cause…here’s the thing…”_

_“I know about Dean.” Robert said, side stepping the end table._

_Sam’s back was against the wall. “You…know what…about Dean?” Sam asked. Because, he couldn’t know **that** about Dean._

_“I know that he’s got you wrapped around his finger.” Robert was in his space now and Sam wanted to crawl into the wall. “I saw you with him. But you have to know Sam…it isn’t right.” His hand caressed Sam’s cheek. “I would be so good to you.”_

_“Sam?”_

_There was a heavy footfall on the stair and Dean’s voice and Robert stepped back enough that Sam could push past him. “Yeah, Dean….I’m…” Sam looked back at Robert from the bottom of the stairs. “Sorry, Robert. I just…” He shook his head and looked up at sleepy-grumpy Dean. “Night.”_

Sam had to wonder…if he’d told Dean…if he’d let Robert kiss him…if he’d told Robert he was going away to school…anything…He lowered his head back onto his knees, turning his eyes away from Caleb. Robert had fucked him in the van. He’d been gentle, caressing Sam’s body and talking about how long he’d waited. How he’d wanted this since Sam was fifteen. It was worse than the others…more intimate somehow…the others were doing a job. They didn’t touch him more than necessary. They didn’t talk softly. The only words they spoke were aimed at their business, at beating the litany of “Nothing. No one. Alone” into his head.

Sam shivered. They were due to come soon. They would demand he willingly submit…and Caleb would watch as he did, as he bent over and let them take him…because Sam wouldn’t let them hurt someone else…no matter what it cost him. James was a good judge of people…knew exactly how to affect them, how to break them from standard behavior and take them away from everything they thought they knew about themselves.

He didn’t know Winchesters though. Didn’t know that Sam could do this, humiliating as it was, and hold on to something. He didn’t know how long it would take, but Dean would find him. And when he did, Sam would let go of everything that had happened here…make it like it never happened. For Dean.

 

The impromptu command post was a flutter of activity when they pulled in, and John went in search of Ellen. Dean followed, watching as hunters loaded weapons and set out. John was back before Dean caught up, shoving a shotgun into his hands. “They’re leaving. We’re going in. Get in the car.”

Ten minutes later they were fanned out, twenty men across. Dean followed a half step behind his brother. Leaving. As in, giant trucks had been pulled in, loaded and were pulling out, disappearing out the back of the property. Shots rang out to his left as they got closer. Men were yelling. They were running. 

They were into buildings. Men moved in the shadows. Men fell under a reign of bullets. “He’s not here.” He felt it in his bones. This was a distraction…a delay, so that they could get Sam into the depths, into the bowels of the organization…behind dummy corporations and layers of names. “He’s not here.” 

John turned to them as they cleared a sub-floor. There were only a handful of people anywhere. “We don’t know that yet.”

Dean shook his head and grabbed at one of the younger hunters. “Gabe, you carrying trackers?”

He was younger than Sam, with floppy blond hair that he pulled out of his eyes. “Yeah, why?”

“I need one. Something that can go...inside.”

“Under the skin?”

“Dean?”

“Go see if they left anything behind.”

John shook his head. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“We need to track them. This is like the place they brought me that first night. It’s just a…way station. They collect and ship…they don’t keep them here. Sam isn’t here.” He fought to keep the frantic out of his voice. He couldn’t let his father know what he was thinking. He would never—

“John!” Joe’s voice rang out from down the hall. “Get down here. We found Joshua.”

“Stay put.” John said as he jogged away and Dean turned back to Gabe. “I need something I can swallow. Something you can track even if I swallow it.”

Gabe’s face showed confusion, but he slipped his pack off his back and rummaged in it. The son of an electronics developer who once built tracking systems for the military, Gabe always had a handful of developmental gadgets on hand. He pulled out a case and opened it, rummaging through and pulling out a small package. “I mean...we’ve never tested it like that…but the casing should protect it from the stomach acid…and it’s small enough that it should take a while before it passes…but—“

Dean took the tiny bug and looked at it. “What’s the range?”

Gabe shrugged. “A couple of miles probably, ten tops.”

“You got the equipment to track it?”

Gabe nodded. “In the car.”

“How does it turn on?”

“From the hand held…so that you can get past a scan…you know…if you’re like…undercover?”

Dean glanced down the hallway at his father and exhaled slowly. Before he could think better of it, he tossed the tiny thing into the back of his throat and swallowed. “Don’t turn it on for…6 hours. Got it?” Gabe nodded, still looking confused. “Give me five minutes. Then tell my father—“

“Tell me what?” 

Dean turned at the sound of his voice and backed away. “I’m going….I’m going to them….before they’re all gone.”

“No!” John stepped forward and Dean pulled the gun from his belt.

“It’s the only way. They’ll take me to him. J-James…he’ll want Sam to see. He’ll want me….to…see what they’ve…done…what they’re doing to Sam. We’ll never find him.” He pulled the ring from his finger. “They’ll take everything. That’s why I had to swallow it. Keep this for me.” He pressed the ring into his father’s outstretched hand. Then, he was on the elevator, holding his father still with the gun and swallowing the fear. “I’ll pretend and you’ll come…and you’ll bring more firepower…more men…explosives…and we’ll end it…we’ll end it all. You and me and Sammy.”

“Dean, come back. We’ll find another way.”

“Burn it down. Come find me. I’ll get Sam. I’ll take care of him. You come for us, Dad. You come for both of us.”

Dean closed his eyes as the doors closed and collapsed against the elevator wall. His heart was racing. He had to get to where the last of the trucks were fighting their way out to the road….had to get to someone who would know. Had to get to Sam.

He ran along the muddy tracks. Hunters were still searching the nearer buildings. There would still be a guard post…something on the back way out of the property…and he ran, ignoring the yells from familiar voices. Nothing mattered but getting them to take him.

The road narrowed, turned…then he heard the voices. “They’re moving this way, time to go.” 

“No!” Dean screamed it, knowing it would bring them. “Don’t leave me.”

He came to a stop in his run. Three men in guard uniforms had guns drawn. He held up his hands, letting the gun swing loose on his left thumb. “Who are you?”

Dean sank to his knees in the mud and bowed his head. “I am Nothing. No one. Alone.”

“He’s a slave.”

“Who’s your master, slave?’

Dean swallowed, eyes closed. “M-master James, sir. I belong to Master James.”

A fourth guard appeared from behind Dean. “We got company coming.”

“Please, I need to go to my master.” Dean said as one of them took his gun.

“Get him in the van and let’s get out of here. We can sort it out at the rendezvous.”

Dean sighed in relief as they ordered him to his feet and into the van. They would take him to James and James would take him to Sam. And he could hold it together until their father came for them both.

 

John raced up the stairs and out into the fading light, screaming Dean’s name and clutching the ring in his fist. “Fuck!” He couldn’t see him and he doubled over. “No. Fuck. Fuck!”

Joshua was dead, Caleb was missing, Sam was…god he didn’t even want to think about that…and now Dean had just…given himself up. Just…left him. Ellen was coming toward him, her face full of concern. Gabe was catching up, breathing heavily. John grabbed him by the shirt, shoving him into the nearest wall. “How could you let him do that?”

“John? I’m not even sure what he just did.” Gabe said, holding his hands up. “I just got here a few hours ago after my father called. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“John?” Ellen’s hand was prying his fingers loose from the boy’s shirt. “What happened?”

“Fuck!” John let go and turned away. “Fuck. Dean…” He felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. “He…he left. He went…to them.”

Ellen’s eyes were wide as she rubbed a hand over his back and he tried to get air into protesting lungs. “He…what?”

“It’s a decoy. They aren’t here. He swallowed a tracker and…gave himself up…” He squeezed the ring. “He left me, Ellen…” He opened the fist and looked at the silver. “He…left.”

Ellen turned to Gabe. “You can track him?”

He nodded, his face pale, his eyes darting between John and Ellen. “Yeah…he said not to turn it on though…not for a few hours.”

“If they’re the kind of organization they appear to be, they’ll sweep him for bugs.” Allen Barris said as he came up beside his son. He held up his hand. “I heard.” He tapped his ear and gestured at Gabe with his chin. “We keep connected.”

Ellen nodded, her eyes sweeping over John who seemed stunned. “How long?”

“He said six hours.” Gabe said and Allen shook his head. 

“Might not be long enough. It depends on how far they’re taking him before they sweep him. We got someone following?”

John stirred suddenly, turning. “Eight,” he said through tears. “To be safe. If they find it, they’ll kill him. They went out the back.” He didn’t even move to wipe his face. 

“I’ll go.” Gabe said, looking at his father for confirmation. “I should be able to track the way they went. They won’t be too far ahead.”

“Joshua’s dead. I say we make this place his funeral pyre. The whole fucking thing.” John said, his eyes on the ground.

“What about prisoners?” Gabe asked, his face paling even more when John looked at him.

“What prisoners?” He turned to Ellen. “No survivors, Ellen.”

She nodded. “I know John. I know.” She took his hand and squeezed. “Allan, could you arrange some fireworks? I’m going to get John away from here a bit.”

John came mostly willingly, as she led him away from the building to the fence that surrounded the corral. While Gabe conferred with his father and took off in a run. “Let us finish this, okay? John?”

He leaned on the fence and lowered his head, letting the sobs shake him. Her hand circled his back and she leaned against him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “That’s it…just let it all go.”

A few minutes passed and the sobs eased. Slowly, he raised his face, but didn’t look at her. “If anything happens to them…if anything more…I just don’t know if I can…”

“You can. If those boys can, you can. Who do you think taught them to be this strong?” She turned his face toward her and kissed both cheeks. “You stay here. I’ll call you when we’re ready to send Joshua off.”

 

Dean knelt in the back of the van, shaking, his hands folded in his lap, his head bowed. The man not driving was on his cell phone. The two sitting near him were staring at him. “How’d you get out here, slave?”

Dean licked his lips. “I was taken away from Master. I escaped from the man who took me.”

“Look up slave, Command wants a picture.”

Dean looked up as the guard held up a camera phone. There was a click and then Dean dropped his head again. It was harder than he thought…not all of it...it was easy to drop into the conditioning…it was harder to hold on to himself at the same time.

There was silence in the van for a while, then the phone rang. “Well shit. Looks like we just hit the jackpot, boys. Seems this slave is being honest with us. Master James has been looking for this one. Change of course, we’re heading for the helicopter pad.”

Helicopter. That meant Sam was far away, the tracker wouldn’t work….he’d be on his own… “Get undressed slave. You’ll need to be searched before we get you on the chopper.”

Dean nodded, because it wasn’t a question, so it didn’t warrant him speaking…only obedience. His hands shook as he shifted so that he could get his shoes off. He was keenly aware of their eyes as he stripped and settled back to his knees…into the relaxed presentation posture. He swallowed against the lump of fear in his throat, but it only got bigger. He could pretend and not get lost. He had to. For Sam. For their father.

So that they could end it.

 

Gabe pulled off the property, following the muddy tracks on the street. He got nervous a few miles down the road when the mud had worn off the wheels and pulled the hand held out of the glove box. One little blip. It was all he needed. Just to be sure.

He slowed at the intersection and thumbed a button. The screen came to life and he tapped it to activate the bug. A green dot appeared. North, and still moving. He turned it off and dropped the device, turning north.

 

Flames beat at the sky. The hunters stood watch, silent as Joshua and the bodies of the other dead burned along with the buildings. Explosions rocked the ground as they detonated bombs left behind in the underground facilities. Come morning there would be nothing left. Ellen gathered the senior of the hunters to her. 

“This is it, boys. We’re going to need weapons and man power. Call in every favor, every brother, sister, uncle and friend. When we find this place, we’re going to need able bodies and power. I’ll be point on this. We’ll stage as we go. We’ve got a while before we’ll know anything, so I want you all to rest, get your people together and check in with me by noon.”

Allen touched her arm and whispered in her ear. “North, but we could have a problem. Gabe says they’re getting into a chopper.”

Ellen nodded, glancing at John. “Can he track it?”

“He thinks so, unless…they fly somewhere he can’t drive.”

“Don’t tell John. Keep Gabe on them, we’ll follow him.”

She turned her eyes back to the conflagration of buildings and hay and bodies. She’d lost track of Bobby since they’d gotten there, but had her hands full with John. She watched the flames for a few minutes, then went to where John waited. “Come on…let’s you and me hit the road.”

He stood and nodded. “Where’s –“ He stopped as he spotted Bobby leaning against the car. 

Bobby wouldn’t look at him just stood and nodded. “Gonna go with Joe…Pick up…things.”

“Yeah. Good.”

“Okay.” Bobby walked away stiffly and Ellen swatted John.

“You need to let him know you don’t blame him.”

“He knows, Ellen.” John turned and watched him go. “He knows what he’s going to have to do…”

Ellen turned him to face her. “You’re not going to let him kill his own son.”

“Robert is his responsibility, Ellen.”

“Get in the car John. Before I shoot you myself.”

 

They left Dean in a small room, one of the instruction rooms. There was a stocked bathroom. He knew what was expected. He had to convince him. Had to pretend. Had to prepare.

He was careful. His hands shook as he scrubbed and shaved and brushed his teeth. He dried himself slowly. He examined his skin, knowing the marks were going to cost him. But he could do this. He looked at himself in the mirror…tried to make his eyes dull and dead…not…him…He’d put on weight and it showed in his face.

He blew out slowly. There was no telling how long he’d have. The bottle of lube was there on the sink. He turned his eyes away from the mirror and poured lube onto his fingers before moving his fingers to his ass. He was already slightly open from the cavity search they had done before they put him on the helicopter. 

He fought down a wave of nausea and worked two fingers in, then a third, avoiding his prostate. When he was sure it was good enough, he washed his hands and went into the small room. The only furniture in the room was an apparatus for putting a slave on display. He was sure that there was a reason he was in this room. He went to the middle of the floor and kneeled…ready to wait.

But he’d been watched and he didn’t have to wait long. The door opened and Dean bent forward, face to the floor, his hands moving back to spread his ass cheeks.

“Well. The prodigal slave returns. They tell me you turned yourself in. Is that true?”

Dean didn’t raise his head. “Yes, Master.”

“Why?”

“You told me I was yours…not Sam’s. I belong to you.” Don’t think about it…just say it. Don’t breathe.

“Have you prepared yourself for me?”

“Yes Master. I wish to please you.”

His shoes echoed on the floor as he came closer. He circled Dean. “What are you slave?”

“Nothing. No one. Alone…sir.”

“What are these marks on your hand?”

“I cut myself on a broken mirror, Master. And I fell in some gravel.”

“Do you have any other marks?”

“My forehead, Master. From hitting a wall.”

“Show me.”

Dean lifted his head enough that James could inspect the fading bruise. When he walked away, Dean lowered his head again.

“Do you remember your place, slave?”

“To serve your pleasure, Master.”

“And what of your brother?”

“He belongs to you.”

“And your father?”

“He…” Dean had to swallow the pain. “He gave me away.”

“Indeed.” James circled him again. “You will need to be punished…for believing you belonged to that thief, and for damaging yourself.”

“Yes Master.”

“Present yourself.”

Dean stood and moved to the rack. This was more surrender than the rest. This was willingly putting his ankles in restraints. This was willingly offering himself to be used…not just looked at or touched. It took him a moment to gather himself before he stepped into it. The self-locking cuffs closed as he stepped down and bent forward. His arms moved back to his ass, holding himself open. “Tell me, did he touch you?” James asked as his gloved finger pressed into him. “Did he take his pleasure with you?”

“Y-yes…I tried hard to please him when I thought he owned me, sir.”

“How many times did he put his cock in your ass, Slave?”

“Twice. Just twice.”

Dean never even heard the zipper, but he felt that familiar cock as it slid into him. Nothing else touched him as James fucked him. It was over quickly, and when it was done, James left him there in the rack. 

“Maybe you’ll get to return the favor…if you behave.”

The door closed, and Dean relaxed a little…despite the come leaking out of his ass. James seemed to believe his conditioning was intact. Dean’s stomach burned with fear that it wouldn’t be enough…that they’d flown too far and his father wouldn’t find them…that he’d just consigned himself and Sam to hell.


	18. Setting Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellen and Allen conspire to force John to sleep in hopes that he'll get together enough to contribute to the coming fight. Gabe tracks Dean to a compound and the hunters set up surveillance. Sam and Dean are reunited.

Gabe was usually a fairly cautious guy. Rarely drove over the speed limit, particularly because he routinely carried a fair amount of weaponry and other…toys…that would probably land him a lot of years in prison. Some of it was so high tech not even the military had it in testing yet and probably fell under a whole lot of questionable security clearances, none of which he had.

He made exceptions however, and this was one of them. He had to ping the chip a few times to make sure he hadn’t lost them…and he could only hope he didn’t set off some sort of detector when he did it. He hadn’t known what was going on…not until he’d gotten on the road and his father fed him some of the information through the radio. 

Truth was, the whole thing seemed…ludicrous. He’d known Dean and Sam for years, since not long after his father left NASA and started hunting demons and werewolves. He met Bobby once, but never his son…and while Gabe could picture someone _wanting_ to…own one or both of them, he couldn’t even imagine what it would take. 

Dean had taught Gabe how to defend himself when he was the pip-squeak geek in Sam’s science class, three years younger than his peers and still completely ahead of them. Dean had taught him how to use his own assets to protect himself…how to think, how to react to trouble…and when all else failed how, where and when to throw a punch.

The look in Dean’s eyes, the desperation in his voice as he ran away…it terrified Gabe, especially matched with the look on John Winchester’s face when he told Ellen no survivors.

Hunters didn’t generally kill people. It was like…a law, as close to one as a thrown together, rag-tag community like this one would ever recognize. Yet, no one questioned him.

He raised the binoculars and adjusted them. He had tracked them to a sprawling compound that gave every indication it was a religious retreat center. He had seen the chopper land on the roof of what appeared to be the central building. To it’s left there was what appeared to be a church building, stained glass windows and all. He panned to the front gates. Men dressed in monk’s robes were talking with uniformed guards. 

Lowering the binoculars, he glanced down at the notes in his father’s hand writing on the seat beside him. It was a list of missing hunters…hunters kids, even those who associated with hunters. Some of them were younger than he was. 

His ear piece crackled and he pressed the button to receive. “Gabe, any change?”

“No. It looks quiet. Doesn’t look their expecting company.”

“You got the lay of the land?”

“Not yet, well only what I can tell from here. From what I can see from here there’s a church building to the north of the gates. Infra red shows…two people on the main floor…one in the balcony.” He lifted the binoculars and switched them back to infra-red. “There’s…a small basement with a guard and an elevator.”

“To where?”

“Can’t tell, too much distance and interference. The other primary building…looks like a meeting hall…with barracks above. Dining hall….kitchen…more underground stuff.” He lowered the binoculars and sighed. “What should I do?”

“How far away are you?”

“Their security cameras can’t see me…but that’s in the dark. Visibility will improve when the sun comes up.”

There was a long pause, and Gabe wondered if his father had turned his unit off. “Gabe. No matter what, don’t you go in there without us. You got that?” There was fear in his father’s voice. “Don’t get caught.”

“Yeah, Dad. I got it.”

“You don’t have any idea what these people are capable of.”

“I got it Dad.” 

“Get what you can, but be careful. We’ll be there…soon.”

 

Dean wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it was enough that his feet felt pin prickly and his head was buzzing. The door opened and it took a lot of will power not to look up. “Good morning, slave. I hope your night was pleasant.”

Dean’s eyes rolled closed. He knew that voice. “I’ve come to deliver your punishment, per Master James instructions.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Dean said softly. He knew Thomas and his appreciation for punishment. It would be swift and it would be hard. Right to the limits of what Master allowed. Thomas came into his line of sight. 

“Got a new crop while you were gone, boy. Broke it in over your brother’s back.”

 _Sam_. He forced himself not to respond, not to react. Thomas would test him, test his conditioning…look for signs that Dean was anything other than an obedient, well trained slave. Dean wouldn’t give him that.

It was twenty blows with the crop, five for each wound and five for following Sam. Each delivered precisely, leaving his back hot and welted, but not bleeding. Thomas was good at his job.

Thomas ran a hand down his back, checking for a pain reaction. Dean trembled, but didn’t flinch. “Clean and prepare yourself, slave. Your Master will be in to see you.” Thomas released him from the rack and Dean moved on shaking legs into the bathroom. The water was going to hurt, but Dean held onto the pain. It reminded him why he was there. Why he’d given himself back. For Sam.

 

Ellen stopped the car outside a small diner. Beside her John sat in a stupor. He hadn’t moved or spoken in a long time. He stared out the window or he stared at the ring on his right hand. She touched his arm. “Let’s get something to eat. “

There wasn’t an immediate response, but she waited and he slowly turned. “John? You need to eat.” He needed a lot more than to eat, but food was just a start of what she had planned.

“Yeah. Okay.” 

She smiled softly and got out of the car. In the all night diner she settled them in a booth and bantered with the waitress, easing John out of himself. When they’d ordered and he was hugging a cup of coffee in hands that made it look tiny, she sighed. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. I’ll be back.”

Down the hall where the bathrooms were, Ellen pulled out her phone. “Allen?” She looked up to check on John, and sighed. “No, we’re at a diner. Have you heard from Joe or Bobby?” She sighed again. Nothing about this situation was good. She couldn’t help but see Bobby’s face as he’d walked away. “Okay, are you there yet?”

Ellen put a hand in her pocket and pulled out the small bottle of pills. Allen had given them to her before they separated. “I’m gonna put them in his food.” She didn’t like it, but Allen was right. John was dangerous right now, and he needed something to bring him down. “Okay, here comes our food. I’ll call you when he’s out.”

She cracked two of the capsules from the bottle into her hand and headed back to the table, smiling as the waitress settled their plates. “John, could you reach the table behind you for the ketchup?” 

As he turned, Ellen upended her hand over the pile of hash on his plate, watching as the wetness of the food pulled the white powder down quickly. She smiled and took the bottle John handed her. Now, if he would just eat, she wouldn’t have to keep taking the long way to keep them from getting there before things were set up.

 

He didn’t know anymore which was worse…when they left him alone with Caleb staring at him…or when they were putting him through their paces. He’d managed for a while. The physical stuff was easier. He could disconnect and obey. It wasn’t real. It was just something he had to do to survive.

It was the other stuff…the things they made him say…the rules…that was harder. Caleb’s back was bleeding as he knelt in his corner, his body quivering from the last six blows that Thomas had landed on his shoulder blades. “Please.” Sam whispered, closing his eyes.

“Ask for it.”

Sam’s knees were bruised and sore. He rocked forward, holding his stomach. He had no idea how long he’d been gone…His body craved food. The water they’d given him hours before hadn’t helped. “Please.”

The end of the crop was under his chin, tilting his face up to Thomas. “Please what, Slave?”

Sam wasn’t sure anymore what he was supposed to be asking for. “If you pee on yourself, you’ll get ten blows. You know what that means for your boy over there.”

Sam closed his eyes. “Please…may I relieve myself?” He hadn’t…not since…and he wasn’t even sure he could…but it was what Thomas was looking for.

Thomas kicked a bucket toward him. “On your feet. Pee in the bucket.”

Sam stood, moving a little closer and reaching to hold himself. Thomas slapped his hands away with the crop, the leather stinging across both hands and cock. “Didn’t tell you to touch yourself.”

Sam blinked at him, trying to understand, then dropped his gaze to the bucket and shuffled still closer, willing himself to go…willing himself to just let go and do what Thomas wanted, to let this session end. It seemed to take forever, but eventually it came…a slow trickle that fell into the bucket. Thomas laughed as Sam shuffled back again.

“You may beat that record yet, slave.”

The door opened behind Thomas and Sam fell immediately to his knees. He knew the footsteps. The way he paused, the way his eyes felt on Sam’s body. “Thomas?”

“We’re making progress, sir.”

“Has he learned to keep his tongue?”

“Better than before.”

“Look up.”

Sam obeyed, then wished he hadn’t. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to rub his eyes and make it go away. “No.” It was barely a breath, barely escaped. “Dean.”

Dean didn’t move, not until James touched his shoulder, then Dean sank to his knees. 

“Apparently not.” James said and Sam flicked his gaze up at him. “Slave, tell this boy what happens to slaves who speak out of turn.”

“Punishment.” There was no inflection in the word, nothing to indicate Dean even knew who he was.

“Punishment it is.” James agreed. “Thomas, I believe our rule with this slave was two blows per word.”

Sam stared at Dean, waiting for him to say something…do something. Sam didn’t flinch as the blows landed, didn’t stop looking to his brother…even as Thomas moved over to Caleb and Caleb’s screams leaked out around the gag.

James stepped away from Dean, and Sam thought he saw Dean’s eyes flick to Thomas. It was probably wishful thinking. James had his back to Dean, watching Sam. Thomas was still hovering over Caleb. “What are you slave?” James asked.

Dean’s eyes met Sam’s and held. Steady. “Nothing. No one. Alone, sir.”

“To whom do you belong?”

Sam held his breath as Dean held his eyes. There. Just there. “I belong to my Master, sir. I belong to you.”

“And what is your purpose?”

“To serve your pleasure, sir.”

Sam mouthed Dean’s name as James took another step toward his ass, examining the bruising covering Sam’s back. “Who is this?”

Dean’s eyes rose to James’s back, then went back to Sam’s eyes. The nod was almost imperceptible. “He is nothing, sir. No one. Alone.”

James’s hand fisted in Sam’s hair and pulled his head back. “Do you hear that boy?”

Sam’s breath rasped in and out of his clenched mouth. “Tell me what you are.”

Sam blinked and shook his head, until James pulled his hair even tighter. Sam could feel Dean’s eyes. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t make the words come out. “Nothing.” Dean’s voice was soft, but it jarred Sam. 

“N-nothing.” Sam repeated, his eyes closing.

“No one.” Dean’s voice carried something in it that was soothing. 

“No one.” Sam’s voice didn’t quaver that time. 

“Alone.” Somehow Sam knew Dean’s head would be bowed again if he looked.

“Alone.” 

James pulled a little tighter in Sam’s hair, forcing his eyes up. “Again.”

“I-I am nothing. No one. Alone.”

“And to whom do you belong?”

Sam wanted to scream, to thrash…to rip this asshole’s dick from his body…he couldn’t say it…had to say it…He was panting, trying to force the words out. Dean had come. Dean…Dean was there…and himself…more the big brother he remembered in those eyes than he’d seen since this started. He could do this. “You.” It was a tiny sound, but the fierce grip released and Sam’s breathing started to slow as his eyes came back to Dean.

He was aware of Caleb, of Thomas standing over him, of James running a hand over his bruised back. He was aware of the ache in his knees and the burn of the tender skin on the backs of his legs and his ass. More than anything, he was aware of Dean, of every movement, every nuance of his being. He realized he was holding his breath and slowly let it out.

James was behind him, straddling his lower legs, pulling Sam upright against him and pointing. Pointing to Dean. “Now, slave, tell me who is that?”

Sam trembled at the thought of saying those words where Dean would hear him…that he might possibly think Sam believed them…”He…is…nothing.” Sam sobbed and tried to curl forward, but James held him by the shoulders.

“Finish it.”

“No one. Alone.”

“And to whom does he belong?”

“You.”

James squeezed against his shoulders. “Sir.” Sam corrected. “Yours, sir.”

“Thomas, I must say this is quite remarkable work. How long since first contact?”

Thomas left Caleb and came to stand between Sam and Dean, tapping his crop against the top of his boot. “By my calculations, we’re closing in on 72 hours, sir.”

“And the record was what?”

“Eighty-Nine hours from first contact to absolute submission, sir.”

“Hmmm.” James sounded pleased. “I wouldn’t call this absolute submission…yet.” He moved away from Sam, back to Dean. “I want the record, Thomas. No more rest periods. Break him hard. Break him fast. At the Eighty hour mark I want him in my rooms, ready to beg me to let him serve me.”

 

John’s gentle snore in the back seat was comforting. Ellen’s shoulder was sore from the way he’d slumped against it, but he was out and she could get them to the rendezvous without worrying about him running off half cocked as soon as they got there.

To someone who knew hunters, it was easy to spot…the late model and largely non-descript cars, dusty from the road and plates from around the country…big trucks and a couple of motor homes…men milling about in what would appear random wandering until anyone really studied it for patterns…The motel was host to at least 30 hunters. 

She pulled in beside a mustang that had seen better days and got out, checking John before heading to the door marked 12. She knocked twice and before she hit the third, the door was open and Gabe was ushering her in. “You okay, kid?”

He nodded, but looked spooked. “Dad.” Allen looked up and nodded. 

“How is he?”

“Still out. What have we got?”

The little hotel room was decked out in tech gear that would have made Ash’s mouth water. “Video just came up.” Allen said.

“You got video?” Ellen came to stand behind him.

“Gabe hacked their security feed.”

The monitor was split into four pictures that rotated through numerous cameras. Allen’s fingers tracked people and positions, his other hand jotting down notes. “I’m letting them cycle for now, but we can stop individual cameras if we need a better look.”

Ellen nodded absently, her eyes scanning the pictures. There were long corridors lined with doors and vast rooms with cages, some filled, some empty…offices, guard posts. Then Ellen heard a distressed sound and looked up at Gabe. His eyes were riveted on the upper left quadrant. She felt her face redden and her stomach churn. “Well, we know where Caleb is now.” She crossed her arms and tried to look away, but didn’t manage until the picture shifted. “Do we know where that is?”

“We’re still putting together a layout.” Allen pointed to the wall over the dresser and the giant white paper pinned up with a rudimentary blueprint of the compound. “The video will help, but it’s going to take time.”

Ellen nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay. Why don’t I leave you to this and take Gabe? He can bring me up to speed on who’s here, who’s coming and what we still need.” It would also get him away from watching the video of Sam and Dean. Allen nodded, and spared a glance up at his son. Gabe nodded to say he was okay. “I’ll get a couple of guys to haul John into a room and into a bed. His back isn’t going to be happy if I let him sleep it off in the car.”

Allen snorted. “He’s not going to be happy we drugged him, or did anything without him.”

“He will be.” Ellen insisted. “When we get his boys back.”

 

Dean knew that James was pleased. He was sent to the small cage James kept in his quarters for the slave he was working with when they returned. When he heard James close the door to the room, shutting Dean off from everything but the cage, he collapsed and rubbed a hand over his face. 

Sam was okay. Sam was alive and Thomas hadn’t broken him. He was close, Dean could see that. He’d been startled to see Caleb there, and to realize why, but he was fairly certain no one noticed. 

They didn’t have long. Thomas would take James at his word. If he let himself think about that…at what was going on in Sam’s cage even then…He shivered, remembering the purple and black of Sam’s back…the way his voice quavered…how Dean’s voice had brought him through it. Sam would submit because Sam trusted Dean.

Eight hours. His chances of seeing Sam again before then were minimal. All he could do was hope Sam understood what he had to do…he had to survive. Whatever that meant.


	19. Surviving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam starts to crack and Dean tries to help him hold on. John begins to realize the extent of the fight as Allen and Ellen show him the work they've done to prepare.

“No mistakes this time.” Ellen said to a small group of hunters in one of the motel rooms. “You will be our group leaders. Each of you will be assigned a section of the compound and a team. No one goes in until everything and everyone is in place.”

She looked around at the faces, some of whom she’d known for years, some she’d only just met. “Gabe will be issuing radios and frequencies. These have been chosen based on the frequencies in use in the compound. Surprise is our most important weapon here. They are well organized and well armed. After you get your radios and frequencies, you will be assigned your sections and given mission objectives for those sections by Allen.”

The door opened and Joe and Bobby came in. Ellen offered a tentative smile, but Bobby didn’t even look up. “By now you all know what’s at stake here. I don’t need to tell you that these bastards are taking our people, our children and doing unspeakable things to them. There can’t be any screw ups.”

Bobby moved into the middle of the group. “No one survives. I know that rubs all of you the wrong way. But here it is. These men are monsters. They are not going to stop, and the Winchesters will never be free of them unless we free them by killing anyone and everyone involved.”

“Bobby.” Ellen reached for him, but he stopped her with one look.

He held up a photo. “This man is my son. He…If you find him, I would consider it a personal favor if you would hold him and bring him to me.”

“Bobby. No.”

“Stay out of it Ellen. I’ll handle my boy.”

She sighed and looked away. She wasn’t going to get through to him any more than she was going to get through to John. Which reminded her…”I need to go check on John.”

 

Sam was trying to hold on. Seeing Dean…seeing him and knowing he wasn’t…hadn’t fallen back into the conditioning…it had helped, but he wasn’t sure if Dean wanted him to play along…or fight…He had never wanted to feel his brother’s hands more than he had when James made him leave.

The cage hadn’t been empty since they left. There was no sense to anything, just moving and doing and being still…there were words rattling around him and into him and there was the ringing chorus of his body…broken voices screeching out their pain.

The latest of them moved away and Sam slid bonelessly to the floor. He couldn’t look at Caleb anymore, laying forgotten in his corner, untouched since Sam had obeyed…submitted…anything and everything…just survive. 

Dean’s eyes told him help was coming. Somehow they’d found a way. Dean’s eyes told him everything. 

“Maybe he doesn’t get a break, Thomas, but the rest of us need some recovery time.”

“Yeah, Dennis. Master David took half the training staff on a retreat in Aspen, so when Master James stepped things up, we ran a little short. Take whatever time you guys need. I’ll handle him for now.”

Thomas walked Dennis to the door and closed it behind him. The door wasn’t locked. Sam suddenly remembered that. Actually, he wasn’t sure. He had never tried it. But Dean’s door had been unlocked. 

“On your knees, hands behind your back.”

Sam nearly didn’t have the energy to respond, dragging protesting limbs into place, his head dropping forward from sheer exhaustion.

“You really are sorry looking, Slave. How much more of this can you take?” He came over to where Sam knelt. “Do you know you can make it end? All you have to do is ask.”

Sam bit his lip. It wasn’t that easy. 

“All you have to do is present yourself to your master and ask him to serve.” His hand was almost gentle as it touched Sam’s hair. “He will look after you, get your wounds treated, and no one else would be allowed to touch you.” 

Thomas paced away to the door and the lights went out, throwing Sam into the dark. “It’s in your hands slave. Only you can make this end.”

 

John was angry. He hadn’t even opened his eyes, but he was furious. He sat up quickly, regretting it as the room reeled a little. He was a little surprised that she was sitting there waiting for him. She had to have known he’d be pissed.

“You fucking drugged me.”

She nodded calmly. “Yes, I did. Put it in your food at the diner.”

“You fucking drugged me. I trusted you!”

“You still do. It was for your own good. You needed it.”

“Like hell.” He started to stand. “Where are we? What’s going on? Where’s Dean?”

“Sit down, John.”

“No.”

She moved her arms and raised a gun. “Tranquilizer darts. I’ll put you down again if I have to.”

John sat heavily on the bed and looked at her as if she had betrayed him. In a way she really had. “Listen. I’m not letting you out into that.” She tilted her head toward the door. “Not until I know you’re back in the game.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You shut down out there. If we had had to deal with anything more, you would have gotten good men killed. I know what this has to be doing to you…but you have got to put it away…all the fear and pain. If your head isn’t in the right place, you’re going to hurt those boys more than help them.”

John sagged a little, then nodded. “You’re right. I fell apart.” He closed his eyes. He felt old, worn thin. “He wasn’t ready…he was so broken and…god Ellen.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. Still pissed…but sorry. It won’t happen again.”

She lowered the gun. “Let me tell you where we’re at, and you and I will decide if you’re ready to go out there and deal with this.”

He looked at her, eyes narrowing, trying to determine how serious she was. “Fine.”

“We’re currently at a body count of 45 men and women…depending on how loosely you define those words. Gordon is going to be here soon with… a large group. He said something about a para-military unit. We have hacked into video surveillance and are building a blueprint from that and some recon Gabe and a few others managed.”

John glanced down at the digital clock. It was three fifteen in the afternoon. He’d been down since breakfast. “When?”

She sighed and shook her head. “There’s no way we’re ready before dawn.”

John stood abruptly. “Dawn? You want me to wait another twelve hours?”

“We’re working as fast as we can. The more knowledge we have, the better our chances. We know exactly where Dean and Sam are. Dean still has the tracker. Gabe pings it about once every three hours to be sure.”

There was a knock at the door and she got up, cracking it open and nodding. “Good. Tell Allen I’ll be over in a bit.” She turned back to John, closing the door. “There’s a cup of coffee on the nightstand.” She pointed. “I brought in your shaving kit and personals. Shower, shave. Get your head on right. When you’ve done that, I’ll be in room 12. That’s Allen’s room. We’re using it as a command post.”

 

Sam couldn’t bring himself to move when the door opened. He knew he should…should be on his knees…should…his eyes opened slowly and for a spilt second he thought it was Dean come for him…but as the feet came closer he knew that Dean wasn’t coming. Dean was a slave…and soon Sam would be too.

“My poor baby,” a voice whispered. Hands ghosted down over his arm, down to the round curve of his ass. “I wish there were some other way.”

Sam tried to focus on the voice…and the familiar touch. “I want to help you. I want to take care of you.” His hands stroked over Sam’s chest, up to his face. “Why are you fighting so hard? Don’t you want it to be over?”

Sam’s blood froze as he recognized the hands, the intimate way they touched him. Robert. He put his hands under Sam’s shoulders and moved him until he was sitting against the bars. Sam’s eyes rolled until Robert’s face came into focus. He was squatting in front of Sam, touching softly…gently, whispering words that Sam couldn’t quite make sense of.

“Please.” Sam whispered, latching on to something in Robert’s eyes, something…”Please Robert…”

Robert’s smile was soft, his finger tracing a bruise on Sam’s cheek. “Just let go, baby. It can all be over. I promise I’ll be so good to you. I promise you’ll be safe and loved.”

Just let go. Give up. Give in. That’s what he meant. “No more guilt, no more decisions…just let go.”

Sam’s eyes closed. He was so tired. How long since he’d slept? The whole ordeal blurred together in a haze of abuse and horror. Not since Caleb. He hadn’t slept since they brought Caleb to him. Sam felt lips on his. Robert was kissing him. Part of him rebelled at the thought…but he couldn’t resist, couldn’t even attempt to prevent his tongue from moving into Sam’s mouth. No one had kissed him. No one. Not since this whole thing began.

“I love you so much. I can’t stand watching them hurt you. Make it stop, baby. You know how. Just tell him you want to be good. Tell him you want to serve him. You want to learn to be a good slave for your master.”

Sam realized suddenly that Robert had shaved his beard and cut his hair. It made him look less like Bobby…less like the moody boy he had known as a kid. “You’re running out of time. They’re coming back. How much more can you take? You don’t need to…you can make it stop.”

“Please.” Sam whispered again. “Can’t…no more.”

Robert’s smile was hopeful as he cupped Sam’s face. “That’s my boy.” His kiss was tender. “I’ll be waiting for you…when your instruction is done. I’ll be there, ready to take you home and make you mine forever. You’ll never have to worry again…no hunting, no danger. I’ll be your master and I will love you.” There were tears in Robert’s eyes. Sam couldn’t understand why, lifting one hand to touch Robert’s cheek.

“Rest now, baby. They’ll be here soon to take you to him. Be my good boy.” He touched Sam’s face one last time, then stood and left the cage.

Sam watched him go, then looked to Caleb. “I’m sorry…tell him that for me?” Sam whispered. Caleb’s eyes were fierce as he shook his head. But Sam knew he couldn’t hold out any longer. He knew what he had to do.

 

Allen’s motel room had been transformed. The bed was gone, moved into Gabe’s adjoining room, and replaced with three folding tables covered with equipment. John recognized Smitty at the one end, listening intently to something through expensive looking headphones. The other two he didn’t know, but they were younger…Dean’s age. He shook his head and pushed the pain aside. 

Ellen caught his eye and beckoned him. “Gordon and his men are in town. We’ve spread the troops out at various motels and a few campgrounds to avoid suspicion. We don’t want to spook them, like we did before.”

John nodded, his eyes taking in everything. He noticed that Allen turned off a monitor as he approached, but chose not to say anything. They were still keeping things from him. He met her eyes and she smiled softly. Her expression said, “For your own good.”

He nodded stiffly. He had to admit, he was impressed. The walls were covered with maps and projections of manpower, attack plans and strategy like John had seldom seen. Finally he turned to Ellen. “So, you running the show now?”

Ellen shook her head. “No, John, just doing my part.”

He nodded and turned back to the plans on the wall. “This where the boys are?”

Allen stood and came to his side, pointing to a location on one of the sub-floors. “This is where they’re keeping Sam and Caleb.”

“You saw them?’ John’s voice was tight and the words came out clipped and hard.

“Yes.” Allen didn’t offer anymore than that. There was no way in hell he was telling John Winchester that he’d watched his son submit to two mammoth men while Caleb was forced to watch. “Dean, on the other hand is here.” He pointed to a location one floor up from Sam’s. “This seems to be more residential area. There are no cameras in the rooms, only hallway ones. This could prove to work to our advantage.”

John’s eyes swept over the gathered information. “Dean’s going to be easier to retrieve, so he should be our first target.”

Allen nodded. “We figured you’d want to lead that team.”

John nodded. “Going to need a bigger team to go after Sam and Caleb. More fire power.”

“We’re actually thinking gas…something non-lethal, but powerful. Gordon and his men are working up a strategy for taking the floor quickly.”

“I don’t want that man in charge of getting my son out of there.”

“His job is neutralizing the enemy. Once that’s done, and you’ve secured Dean, you can take whoever you want to go in after Sam.”

 

He was spent, utterly and completely, his feet dragged as he followed Thomas through the halls and up the floor to the suite where Master James waited. Sam should have balked at the thought…that he could call him that…but he didn’t.

Thomas had not hosed him down, and Sam was dirty, covered in dirt from the cage floor and come from the various fuckings. It was in his hair, dried on his skin, oozing from his ass. Thomas led him to the mat and Sam went to his knees without being told. He could feel James’s smile without looking as he bowed his head. Dean knelt beside James, his eyes dutifully on the floor.

“It isn’t the 80 hour mark yet, is it Thomas?”

“No, sir, 78 and a half. The slave asked to be brought to you.”

“Oh?” James sat forward in his chair, leaning toward Sam. “Why is that slave?”

All he had to do was say the words. That’s it. Then he could rest. It would be over. “I…want…to…” he swallowed. “…to p-please y-you…sir.”

“You want to what?”

Sam licked his lips. His voice was wrecked, ripped. “I want to learn to be a good slave, sir…and please my m-master.”

“And who is your master?”

“You are.”

James sat back in the chair. “Are you ready to present yourself to me?”

Sam didn’t answer with words, only crossed his ankles and leaned his face to the floor, fingers parting his ass tenderly and holding it open. James made an appreciative sound. “Very nice, Thomas. Your bonus for this one will be quite nice.” 

James stood, his suit rustling as he took the few steps to where Sam knelt. “You may sit up.” Sam did, his body aching, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. “I am pleased. You have much to learn. But I reward my slaves when they please me. I think you should be allowed a sexual release.” He turned to Dean. “Take this one into the bathroom. Show him the proper way to clean and shave and prepare himself. Ensure that he orgasms before you leave the shower, but hands only. I’ll be listening.”

“Yes master.” Dean said. Sam saw him get to his feet and looked wearily up at James.

“Hands only, slave. And the next time I see you I expect you to be clean. If you please me I’ll allow you food and water.” Sam waited, because he was painfully aware he hadn’t been told he could stand yet. James smiled and backed off a step. “Very good. You may get up and follow him.”

Sam followed Dean’s back, his feet barely leaving the floor as he shuffled forward. He was tired. But he took comfort in the fact that it was over. Only…on some level he recognized that wasn’t true. Dean didn’t speak until the door was closed, then he turned to Sam and put his arms around him, drawing him close and holding him. Sam started to shake.

Dean’s hands were gentle, his voice soft as he made tiny, breathy sounds of comfort. Then his mouth was on Sam’s ear. “No words until we’re in the shower.” It was barely audible, but Sam nodded against his shoulder.

Dean slowly released him. He pointed to the toilet. His voice took on the same flat tone as his words in the recordings they’d played for him. “This is the only space in which a slave has privacy. In here, he prepares himself for his master, caring for his body in a way that will give his master pleasure. In this room, a slave may relieve his bladder or his bowels freely and without permission.”

His eyes sought out Sam’s, then looked back to the toilet. Sam shook his head. He didn’t think he could…not with Dean watching. “It is important to take advantage of this freedom, so that you will not anger your master later with your body’s needs.”

Dean’s hand caught Sam’s chin and his mouth moved without sound. “Please, Sam.”

There was desperation in the dark depths of Dean’s eyes and Sam bit back the sob that wanted to erupt, shuffling over to the toilet. He sat gingerly and closed his eyes. Dean seemed to sense his need for privacy and backed off, turning to the shower to warm. Sam was still shaking, and it worsened as he finally let go enough to go, his ass burning like he’d never felt.

Dean heard Sam whimper and turned. The pain in his expression was intense. Slowly, his eyes opened and he finished, looking back to Dean. He nodded and moved to help Sam stand. “It’s okay.” Dean said softly. 

He remembered his first shower, and the slave assigned to help him through it. He’d been older, said he’d been with Master James for 10 years. He’d told Dean how good Master James was to the ones he chose to keep. The man had held him and talked to him and somehow made it okay. 

Sam was in far worse physical shape than Dean had been. The rushed training, the last 8 hours…He supported Sam over to the shower. “Always relieve yourself before showering. This allows you to clean yourself properly.”

Once they were in the shower with the curtain closed and the water on as hard as Dean could make it go, Dean felt the tears coming. “Sam…god, Sam. You okay?”

“Dean?” His voice was raw and broken as he clung to Dean. “I…hurt…and I…”

“Shh…we’ve got time…let’s get you cleaned up.” He leaned Sam back against him and moved them under the water, just letting it run over Sam for a few minutes before starting to move his hands over Sam’s skin to dislodge the come sticking to him. “Can you stand?”

Sam nodded and Dean helped him upright before reaching for the shampoo. “Always begin your shower by cleaning your hair with the shampoo that Master has provided you.” Dean said loudly. 

Sam was sobbing, Dean could feel it as he worked the shampoo through his hair. “Come on Sammy…stay with me here…I can’t…I can’t do this without you.”

Sam trembled, but the sobbing stopped as Dean washed him like he had when they were little. Sam whimpered a little as Dean’s hands reached his ass. “Shh…Sammy….it’s okay…just bend forward a little, let me take care of it.”

“No more…please….please.”

Dean closed his eyes and ducked his head under the water to clear it. “I have to Sam. You have to be clean. Please…we just have to hold on.” He pulled Sam to him, holding him under the water, pressing his mouth close to his ear. “Soon, Sammy….they’re coming…Dad, and the others. They’re coming for us. We just have to hold on.”

“Dean…I don’t…I don’t know if I can…I…it hurts and it’s too much….to much…I just…I can’t.”

Dean took Sam’s hands and brought them to his lips, kissing them softly. “For me? Can you do it for me?” He kissed the palms, rubbing his thumbs over the rope burns on Sam’s wrists. “Who am I, Sammy?”

Sam’s face lifted, his eyes filled with water that had nothing to do with the shower spray. “My brother, Dean.”

Dean nodded. “Yes…and who are you?”

Sam shook his head. 

“You’re my Sam.” Dean said, leaning across the small space to press a chaste kiss to Sam’s lips. “You get that? Mine, Sam.”

“Yours.” Sam whispered, nodding slowly.

“Long time before he ever knew you.”

“Yours.” Sam melted against him and Dean held him for a time before he slowly turned Sam and pressed his head toward the wall.

He filled his hand with more soap and slowly went back to washing Sam’s ass. Sam jumped when his fingers moved inside him, but he didn’t pull away. Dean used his spare hand to stroke his back. “That’s my Sammy.” Dean murmured, pulling Sam back to him. “Now…let’s take care of this…” His hand slipped to Sam’s groin and Sam whimpered. “My Sammy…want you to feel this…want you to feel good.” 

His hand closed around Sam’s cock and it stirred a little. “Come on Sammy…I know you don’t want to…I know, believe me…but he’ll know…” He stroked Sam while he pressed kisses to his neck. “Please…I don’t want him to punish you. If we can get through this, he’ll feed you, and let you sleep. You need that.”

“Dean.” Sam whispered through clenched teeth. His cock hardened a little more.

“That’s it…remember that time in the shower…with Dad sleeping in the next room? You wanted me to suck you, but my knee was busted? I used my hand…like this…” Dean twisted a little and Sam jerked. “Yeah…you got so hot for me you broke the tile with your fist.” He worked Sam’s cock, whispering to him softly. “When you come, yell for me, okay? Let him hear you. He needs to hear you.”

Sam nodded, his body jerking forward as Dean’s other hand slipped under him to fondle his balls. “Come on Sammy…come for me.”

Sam yelled, thrusting forward in Dean’s hand and coming. Dean pulled him back, turning him and capturing his mouth in a kiss. “Need you to be okay, Sam.” Dean whispered into his mouth. “Can’t do this if you aren’t.” 

He felt like he was walking a knife’s edge and any minute he would go hurtling off it into the abyss. “I’m…okay, Dean.” Sam whispered. “I can do this.”

“I came for you…they took you away from me, but I came for you.” Dean whispered desperately, needing Sam to understand how important that was. “You came for me.”

Sam straightened up, his hands sliding up to Dean’s face. There was understanding there. “I know.” He smiled. “You came for me.”

The water was turned off and Dean helped Sam out of the shower. “Always dry thoroughly and examine your body for any signs of injury or illness. When you have progressed in your instruction, you will be given a razor. Today I will shave you.”

Dean took his time, wanting Sam to be perfect…to please Master…so that he could get what he needed. It was taking care of Sam in a way, getting him food and sleep. Master would be pleased. And in his head he wasn’t sure who that was…his father or Sam or James…but he would please him.

Dean pressed his lips together tightly and let go of the conflict in his head. Survive. That’s all they had to do. Survive until his father came. Dean hoped he was coming soon, because he didn’t know how long he could keep pretending.


	20. Pretending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean earns the return of his collar, and tries not to fall off the very delicate edge of his deception. Sam doubts himself...his father...and the hunters attack.

Sam seemed so small…so frail and fragile as they knelt side by side and waited. Master James glanced up from some paperwork, then slowly stood and crossed to them. “Is he prepared?”

Dean bowed his head before he spoke. “Yes Master, clean and shaved and ready for your inspection.”

“Is there anything to report?”

“He was very obedient, Master. He had an orgasm as you commanded.” Dean shifted uncomfortably. There was more, that wouldn’t please James…and he had to say it correctly to have the right response. He glanced up, then back at the floor.

“Is there something else?”

“I wouldn’t presume to speak ill of your trainers, sir, but he was injured.”

As predicted, James’s expression turned slightly sour. “Explain.”

“Two tears, sir, inside him. He will not be fit for service.” Dean held his breath. It was risky, Master could blame Sam. But if he didn’t, Dean knew that Thomas would be held responsible and that thought was worth the risk.

“Show me.”

Dean looked to Sam, willing him to know what to do. Sam blinked, then bent forward, his hands moving to expose himself for James. Dean had softened the tender skin with salve after the shower, easing the sting. James squatted behind Sam to look, his gloved finger easing inside him. Same didn’t flinch, didn’t seem to breathe. 

Then James was standing and walking way. He disappeared behind a door and Dean dared look at Sam. “Good boy, Sammy. Real good,” he whispered

James returned. “Thank you, slave, for your honest report. I am pleased with your performance. Lift your head.” Dean obeyed, his eyes falling instantly on the leather in Master’s hands. “I always reward good behavior.” He held up the collar. Dean’s eyes locked on it, watched it come closer. He swallowed. At one time he’d worked very hard to earn it…then it was taken away, replaced…and lost. It was a symbol of being good…of being a slave…of belonging. It was confusing.

Still, there was pride when James buckled it around his neck. “Take him to the cage. He may sleep. Once he is in his cage, come to me. Mara is preparing food. You will serve me, and when I have eaten, Mara will provide you food, which you will share with him.”

“Thank you Master.”

“Go.”

Dean rose and Sam followed shakily. He led his brother out of the Master’s quarters and into the small room that held the smaller cage. It was more hospitable than the training cage, with a padded place to sleep. Dean helped Sam down and Sam clung to him. 

“It’s okay.” Dean said, smiling at him.

“Don’t leave.” Sam looked scared. Dean soothed him with a soft hand.

“I have to Sam. You’re safe now. No one is going to touch you, but him. And he won’t…not yet. Sleep. You’re exhausted. Sleep and when you wake up I’ll be here with food.”

 

John Winchester was not a patient man…but this was something he understood. Military precision. He wasn’t the only hunter with a military background, and Gordon’s cousin was an impressive man. The unit he’d brought was fifteen men with specialized training and a record of retrieving hostages from hostile situations. He liked their plan. In fact, he was impressed by the whole thing.

One by one the team leaders came into the command center for last minute updates, spent a few minutes watching the video feed of their quadrants and said their goodbyes. One by one their small force was moving into place. Daylight was less than a half hour away when John took a deep breath and shrugged into his coat. “I guess this is where I head out to meet up with my team.”

“Me too.” Allen said, standing.

“What about me?” Gabe asked, looking up from his place at the equipment. 

“You’re staying here with me, sugar.” Ellen said, her hand on his shoulder. “We need you on the hack job.”

“And my father doesn’t want me going in there.”

“No, I don’t.” Allen said.

“Sam and Dean are my friends.”

John reached over the monitor to cover Ellen’s hand with his own. “And you can help them best from here. Your daddy doesn’t need to risk you. I won’t let him risk you.”

Gabe huffed and shook his head. “Whatever.”

Ellen settled into a seat next to him. “You are the best man for this job, sweetie. We need you here.”

John squeezed her hand and she smiled. “You be careful, John. I mean it. Stick to the plan.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

 

Sam huddled in the corner of the cage, the bowl of oatmeal cradled to him, eating as rapidly as he could without a spoon. His eyes wouldn’t leave the collar around Dean’s neck as he sat opposite him. “Don’t make yourself sick.” Dean chastised and Sam looked up, blinking as the words trickled into his brain. He looked down at the bowl and up at Dean. 

“Hungry.” Sam said as if that explained something, or made it okay that he was shoving oatmeal into his mouth with his fingers.

“Slow down.” Dean insisted. “He won’t be happy if you get sick.”

Sam wanted to yell, scream that he didn’t care if _he_ was unhappy…but he couldn’t, he could only nod his head and slow down. His stomach wasn’t as happy about food as it should have been anyway, and he could already feel that fullness, despite the very small amount of food he’d managed to get into him.

Dean had been back only a few minutes, smelling of soap and freshly showered. Sam glared at him. He’d been with _him_ , had served him. Let him use him. Sam felt a sting of jealousy, that Dean had given himself…that Dean wasn’t his…and hung his head over his bowl, hiding his eyes. “How long?” he whispered.

“Soon.” Dean whispered back. It was the same answer he got every time he asked.

 

John looked at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. They were close. So close…and it had to go off precisely…any one unit moved too soon and they’d get away. If they got away there was every chance he would lose his boys forever. “Control, any sign we’ve been detected?”

“Everything’s still a go.”

“Any change in locations I should know about?”

“Yeah, Sam isn’t with Caleb any more.”

“Where is he?”

“We aren’t sure. He must be in one of the residential areas, because we don’t have him on any of the security feeds.”

“Great.”

“Oh, and there was a truck that pulled in about ten minutes ago. It looks like they unloaded 10 prisoners.”

“Roger that. Relay that to the extraction team.”

John looked his team over. They were ready. The rest of the teams were in place. The sky was a faded grey, heavy with clouds and the faint orange was creeping up over the hills that surrounded the compound. The heavy guns were descending those hills even now, covered by the glare. The morning rotation of guards and personnel were still in their residential quarters and barracks and intel gathered in the time since Gabe’s arrival indicated that they had another hour before the change of shift. 

His earphone crackled. “Five seconds to lock down.”

The first thing to go would be the outside power. When the back up generators came on Gabe would hack the security grid and lock down each floor, actively isolating each for the teams to take over.

John turned to watch as the outside flood lights blinked, then went out. It took twenty seconds or so for the generators to kick in, and the lights were less bright. Gabe’s voice filled his ear. “Hacking security grid. Perimeter is down.” 

 

Sam woke with a start. He was curled up on the soft pad in the cage, with Dean sleeping on the cold metal floor not far away. If he could feel beyond the numbness that had settled over him, he might be guilty for it. 

There was no way to tell the time, or how long they’d been allowed to sleep. He’d lost all concept of day or night. He shivered, though the cage wasn’t cold and shifted up to sit, arranging himself so that his hurting ass was as comfortable as he could make it. Dean came for him…Dean gave himself to James…to Master James to save Sam. 

Only Sam could only think of all of the fucking he’d endured…how they’d pounded him over and over…how he’d begged for it to stop…even when he swore he would be strong.

Strong.

Sam lowered his head onto his bent knees. It had taken them months to break Dean. Months and making him believe his family was gone. Sam had folded in less than four days. How much more had Dean endured? How much more…and yet, he came back…he gave himself up. All in some vain attempt to save Sam…to lead his father to them.

“Sam?” Dean’s voice was not even a whisper, but Sam looked at him, blinking away the tears.

He nodded and looked away, swallowing the fear. “You should sleep.”

“Can’t.”

Dean sat up. “It’s hard. I know.”

“I let them hurt Caleb.”

Dean shook his head. Sam wanted him to hold him…touch him…make it better, like when they were kids. “No Sam. You did good.”

Sam couldn’t stop the tears now. “No,…I gave up…I…I couldn’t take it…” He gave in to make it stop, even knowing Dean had come for him…gave in, knowing Robert would own him, use him…anything to stop the devastating rape and beatings.

Dean moved closer, his hand wiping at Sam’s cheek and pulling back. “You did exactly what I needed you to, Sammy. I could only help you once you…were brought here. You did good. You did the right thing.”

Sam was shaking again. His body hurt in ways he’d never felt before, more than that he’d thought…he could handle it…thought he could just close it off and forget it…but he kept feeling Robert’s hands in the van…the gentle, loving caress, even as he fucked Sam hard…kept picturing Robert with tears in his eyes. Their father wasn’t going to make it…he didn’t have what it took…He wouldn’t get past his revulsion of what they both had become…and Sam would belong to Robert…and Dean would be sold…and it was all for nothing… “Robert…he’s waiting. He’s going to take me away.”

The hurt on Dean’s face was intense and he touched Sam’s knee. If Master saw, they would both be in trouble. Sam lowered his eyes at the thought. “Mine, Sam.” Dean’s voice cracked a little.

Sam nodded, though he wasn’t sure he could believe it right now.

“You should sleep. The next few hours will be hard on you.”

Sam let Dean lay him down. “When the lights are on, we’ll go to the bathroom again and prepare. I’ll help you. It will be okay. We’ll both be good and pretend and they’ll come for us. You’ll see.”

Sam closed his eyes and tried not to feel lost inside the pain and humiliation…tried not to watch Dean lay down on the cold metal floor and close his eyes as if he’d just crawled into a soft bed.

He didn’t want to think that his father wouldn’t come…but he hadn’t come for Dean. Only Sam had done that. Sam had gone through hell to find him and save him from the unlocked cage. Sam sat up. Unlocked.

He stared at the door. Stared and couldn’t bring himself to try it. _He_ would know. Sam was still staring at it when the lights came on sometime later. Dean sat up and nodded at Sam. “Can you walk?” Sam shrugged and got to his knees, then let Dean help him to his feet. He nodded when his legs held him and Dean led him out and into the bathroom. Dean peed and moved aside for Sam. 

“Aren’t you gonna…” Sam looked at the toilet.

Dean patted his belly. “Can’t. Not yet.” There was a wink and Sam didn’t understand, but he nodded and turned to take care of his own body.

They had nearly finished, Dean had shaved himself and was shaving Sam when the lights went out. Dean’s hand stopped before he could hurt Sam and they both turned to the door. “We go to the mat and wait.” Dean whispered, wiping Sam’s face with a towel. It was a good thing Sam’s beard didn’t grow like Dean’s.

Dean felt panic creeping through him as he led Sam through the hall and into the main room, urging him to his knees on the rubber mat beside Master’s chair. “Knees apart, ankles crossed, hands in your lap,” he said softly. The lights flickered on again and Master James appeared, looking uncharacteristically rumpled in a bathrobe, his hair sleep mussed. His eyes snapped to Sam and Dean, then around the room.

“Attend me.” James said to Dean. “You, stay there. I will inspect you when I am done.”

Dean managed a soft touch to the side of Sam’s thigh as he stood and followed James from the room to assist him with his own morning ritual. He remembered this. Holding his towel while he showered, his mirror while he shaved, his clothes while he dressed. As James took his jacket from Dean he nodded. “Return to the mat. I will be out shortly.”

 

A few tense seconds passed. “Primary building is secure. All teams report for entry when in position.” John started his team forward, moving rapidly into the compound, cutting through the fencing and fanning out. All around them there were rapid bursts of fire. “Secondary building secure. Teams 5 and 6, you have a go.”

He raised his gun as three guards came out of the shadows of the building, firing mindlessly as he continued to move. To his left someone else was firing too. All three men fell and John paused as they passed them to put a bullet into each head to make sure. They didn’t have long before they would start to respond and start working to retake control of their grid. “All teams, proceed to primary targets.” Ellen’s voice said and John gave the nod to his lead.

“Control, this is Team W. Ready at our injection target.”

“Roger Team W.” There was a click and a thud. “Team W is go for injection.”

John realized he was holding his breath and let it out slowly. All he had to do was get his boys out. All he had to do is hope they were okay.

 

Dean was kneeling when the lights went down a second time and James came out of the bedroom quickly, reaching for the phone. He cursed and hung it up, then went to the door of the suite. He was gone for a few minutes and Dean glanced at Sam. “This is it.”

Sam looked at him funny, then at the door. “Dad?” The suite was lit only by a handful of dull emergency lights, battery operated back ups that did little to eliminate the dark.

Dean nodded, then his face went back to the dull expression of a slave as Master James returned, a couple of armed men and Robert in tow. James grabbed Robert and shoved him into a wall. “You know…you have been nothing but trouble since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

“This isn’t my fault.” Robert said. “I’ve been here since we brought Sam in. I haven’t gone anywhere, haven’t spoken to anyone.”

James released him and stepped back a pace. “I don’t care if you brought them here yourself or not, Robert. This is your mess. Mr. Gorlian is not going to be pleased.”

“No.” Robert said, holding up both hands. “I did my part. You’ve got him.” He pointed at Dean. “All broken and trained and ready to sell for twice what you got Sam to pay for him. Hell, he came back to you because you programmed him so well. That’s gotta be worth something, right?”

James glared at him, then turned to look at Dean. He could feel those eyes, the bubbling fury…he knew what that fury could do to him. “You know…it’s possible I underestimated him.” James was walking back toward Dean. “Did I, slave? Is there something I should know?”

Dean didn’t lift his eyes. “No, sir.” He tried not to hyperventilate because it was a lie, and when Master found out, it was going to cost him.

His hand was under Dean’s chin, lifting his face. “I assumed that you would never willingly come back to me unless the programming was intact. Perhaps I should test that theory.”

Dean didn’t move. _Never flinch_ James starred at him for the longest time, then let go of him. “Morris, bring the rack.”

One of the men disappeared into a different room and returned with the presentation rack. He set it up in the center of the room. “Very good. Now, Morris, you and your partner go find out what’s going on…and see if you can get the phone lines up, I’d like to have a vehicle prepared for immediate departure.”

He didn’t look to see that he was obeyed, only reached out a hand to fist in Sam’s hair, yanking him up and dragging him to the rack. Dean’s heart sank, but he didn’t move. James shoved Sam’s feet into the cuffs, then stretched his arms out to the ends of the rack, forcing Sam to bend forward as his hands were shackled to the frame.

“Maybe you can keep quiet. Maybe you can’t. Tell me what I want to know, or he pays the price.” James went to the mantle and pulled a knife off the wall. “I will make him bleed, slave. I will cut him. Is there something you should tell me?”

Dean was frozen to the spot, couldn’t move or speak…couldn’t think beyond the light on the blade and the bruised expanse of Sam’s back. James was swift, a long red line drawn over purple skin, the blood wet and shiny in the pale light of the emergency lighting. Sam didn’t make a sound, but his body quivered.

Two, then three cuts marked Sam’s skin. Then a fourth, and it was Robert who spoke, not Dean.

“Stop. Just…Let me take him and go. Deal with the other one anyway you want…but stop.”

James turned to look at him. “You dare give me orders? Do you remember boy? Do you remember what you are?”

Robert drew himself up with a deep breath and shook his head. “Not anymore. I gave you him.” He pointed at Dean. “You never wanted me anyway. It was all a ploy to get more information so you could find ones who suited you.”

James’s knife swept through the air and cut open Robert’s shirt, then the tip traced the delicate scar in the shape of a “J” over Robert’s heart. “You are Nothing. No one. Alone…Just like them. You don’t give me orders.”

Robert’s face was pale when his eyes flicked to Dean’s. He wasn’t sure what he saw in them…panic, fear…desire…a need…Dean swallowed as he realized Robert wanted his help. Help.

The door to the suite opened and Morris fell into it, kicking the door closed. “We’re under attack…Jahns is down…the floor is locked down…”

“You’re bleeding on my floor.” James said dryly. Dean could see the irritation in his stride as he crossed to Morris. “How many?”

“Don’t know sir. They’re coming this way.”

“Fuck!” James stood and found himself faced with the barrel of a gun. “Come now Robert, we both know you don’t have the balls to use that.”

“I don’t think you know me as well as you might like to.” Robert said. “Dean. Get your brother out of that contraption.”

Dean looked at James, then at Robert. “Now!” 

Sam was still shaking, whimpering as Dean’s hands slid down his legs to the cuffs and pushed the release, slowly moving Sam’s legs together until he was standing. “Stand down, slave.” James warned. “Leave him and come to me.”

Dean’s hands fell to his side and he looked up at James. _Do as Master says without hesitation._

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was cracked and broken and it cut through to him. “You came for me, Dean,” he whispered. Dean fought the need to please master and concentrated on the need to take care of Sam. His Sam. 

His hands sought out the straps at Sam’s wrists and eased Sam upright slowly. “My Sam,” he whispered in Sam’s ear. Sam shuddered as the new wounds in his back made contact with Dean’s skin. 

“Good, now bring him here. We’re leaving.”

No. That wasn’t how this was supposed to work. They stumbled forward until they were close enough that Robert could reach them. “That’s my boy, come on Sammy.” Robert held the gun with one hand and Sam’s waist with the other and moved toward the door. They were nearly at the door when it exploded open, sending them sprawling and making Dean jump.

There was smoke and noise and confusion…then Dean was being dragged, James’s fist in his hair, pulling him toward the bedroom, the knife still in his hand. Dean kicked and fought, more to see Sam than in rebellion. Sam had to be okay. Sam had to be safe. Then James hurled him into the room and into the wall and everything got a little fuzzy.

 

“Get Winchester in here!” a voice rang out.

Sam tried to lift his head, tried to function. Everything seem tinted in red and there were men and no Dean. “Dean?” He pulled himself away from the swirling colors…moved to hide…he shouldn’t be seen…He dragged an uncooperative leg and cowered behind the chair. Dean was gone. Robert…he was…Sam dared a look, but instead of Robert, he saw his father, filling the hole where once the door had been.

He closed his eyes, folded into himself. No….no….Sam had to make it good…make himself okay…pretend nothing happened…he could pretend…He looked again, saw his father scanning the room…No…he couldn’t. Sam bit off the sob and tried to breathe out…but his lungs didn’t seem to work anymore and his head was screaming…but he’d come for them…and Sam wasn’t sure what that meant…or how to react…but the blood seeping from his hairline and the knot from where the exploding door had caught him took all the options away, dropping him out of his confusion and into a soft darkness.


	21. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunters come in hot and heavy...and together they try to handle the ramifications of the day's work...

The gun in his hand was hot and heavy. All around him men were dead and dying. His team moved through the hallway, clearing each room, each suite one at a time. John stalked the hall, taking responsibility for executing anyone that survived the initial assault. He couldn’t ask that of anyone else. Half way down the hall, they’d rescued four slaves, three women and a young man who couldn’t have been twenty. They huddled into themselves at the end of the hall, but John didn’t have time to think about them.

“John!” He turned as his name was called, climbing over the limbs of the man he’d just shot and jogging toward the voice. They’d used a small explosive charge to blow the doors and there was a strong smell of ozone in the air. Black charred white carpet was littered with bits of wood and the doors themselves lay to either side. 

There was movement to his right and John lifted the gun. The door fell away and under it…it was everything he could do not to pull the trigger. “Secure him.” John said, his jaw tight as Robert lifted his head, his face pale, his eyes wide. “Don’t kill him, his father wants a word with him.”

His eyes scanned the room. They had to be here. This was the location Gabe had given him after the last pinging of the bug. “Dean! Sam!” There was no answer. Slowly, he and two of his team moved into the room. There was no way out but the front door from what they could tell. That meant they were here. He tried to calm the fear beating through him and concentrate of finding his boys.

 

Dean pushed himself up to sitting, rubbing at the back of his head where it had connected with the wall. James was pacing in front of him. “Fuck.”

It was more emotion than Dean could remember ever seeing out of his master. “You betrayed me slave.” He came to stand over Dean, the knife twitching in his hand. “How?”

Dean shook his head. “No sir…no master. I came back to you.” He moved shakily on to his knees. 

“I never should have let Gorlian goad me into this. I knew you were too hot. Should have killed your brother for real. Should have bled your father in the streets.”

Dean shook. “I belong to you. I am nothing. No one. Alone.”

James fisted his hand in Dean’s hair and held the knife to his throat. “That’s right slave. You are nothing.”

He was stalling and he knew James knew it. James was going to kill him. Dean didn’t question that…but maybe…if he kept him here long enough, their father would find Sam and take him away…make him safe. Dean lifted his head, pressing his throat forward against the edge of the knife, offering himself up to James. “If I had time, I’d fuck you and leave you filled with my come so your father would know exactly what you are.” James said fiercely. There were noises in the next room. 

His thumb pressed into Dean’s mouth. “But you know what you are, don’t you? You know the feeling of my cock in that pretty mouth. Too bad I didn’t get to use that slave brother of yours. I’d like to have compared you. I’ll bet his ass is sweet…and I’ll bet he’d be a willing cock sucker…don’t you think, slave?”

Dean felt the anger in the pit of his stomach…slowly uncoiling, burning. “Not even eighty hours…and he was mine. Makes you proud, you know? I was looking forward to instructing him…even if he was going to end up with that fuckwad.”

Dean had to bite his lip to keep from reacting. The knife was scraping lightly across his Adam’s apple. “Gorlian…really, this mess is because he couldn’t resist the temptation of taking down the mighty Winchesters.” James snorted and backed off a step. The bedroom door was bolted and he’d shoved the armoire in front of it. Even if they came, it wouldn’t be in time.

James turned and looked at Dean. “You know, your friend out there? He bargained his way out of training…if you can believe that. We caught him in Vegas. Got him, fucked him and marked him…and Gorlian happened to be visiting the intake facility, watched as the processors inventoried his things…found a picture of you boys.”

Dean dared a glance up. James wasn’t looking. He shifted his legs, urging feeling back into them. His head hurt, and his vision was still a little off, but…he watched James move back toward him, tracking the knife in his hand. “He let the weasel bargain…trade his freedom for information. Then he got greedy and demanded payment…demanded your brother…Oh…not that he didn’t earn it. There were the two girls in Vegas, and he wasn’t wrong about you.”

James was in his face again, the knife scraping over the skin of his chin. Dean breathed slowly. James leaned down. “I’m going to cut you up, slave…leave you in little pieces by the time they break in here.”

 

“Sam?” The voice was deep, familiar and it pulled at Sam’s thoughts, tugged him up from the dark. “Sam…come on…” There was a desperation there in the tones…a desperation that didn’t seem normal for that voice. Sam’s eyes opened slowly, focusing on the face in front of him. “That’s it, Son. Look at me.”

“Dad.” Sam started as he realized, trying to cover himself, fold himself ups as tight as he could. “No…please, just don’t look.”

“It’s okay, Sam. I’ve got you.”

“No…no…please….I don’t want you to see…please…”

His father huffed and looked away, nodding. “Okay…I’m going to get you out of—“

“Dean!” Sam stiffened, his eyes darting around the room. “Dean…where’s Dean?”

“Sam, one thing at a time. Let’s get you to safety.”

“No. Not without Dean. He came for me.” Sam clawed at his father’s arm, trying to get up enough to see around the room. His eyes fell on Robert, bound and gagged and kneeling nearby. “Dean…and Caleb….you have to find Caleb.”

John’s hand caressed Sam’s head. “It’s okay, Sam. We’ve got people looking for Caleb.” 

Sam’s whole body shook He had to be better…he had to pull himself together…had to find Dean. “M-m-James…he has to have Dean.” His eyes fell on the door that James had come out of. “In there.”

John looked over his shoulder at the door and nodded. “Okay. Stay here.” He stood and pulled his jacket off, settling it over Sam. “Guys.” John indicated the door and one of them men standing over Robert moved to it. 

“Locked.” He lifted a gun and aimed it at the door knob. Two shots and the knob was gone, but the door still didn’t budge. “He’s blocked it.”

“Blow it.”

 

Dean closed his eyes and reached inside him. His body remembered, even if his mind was still a little weak on the details…He knelt submissive and waiting for James to carry out his threat…for his hand to move. He even let the first kiss of the blade over his jaw line bleed while James chose his next target.

When Dean did move, it startled them both, his hand closing over James’s wrist and pulling, twisting. His other hand swept out and punched his knee, bringing him crashing down. Dean was on his feet then, the knife in his free hand. James was struggling, cursing. He kicked him, letting go of the wrist to grab his hair and put the knife against his throat. “What makes you think I was ever going to let you inside him?” Dean asked through clenched teeth. “He never did belong to you.”

“Let go of me, slave. Remember your place.” 

“My name is Dean Winchester, fucker. And I know my place. Get up.”

“You belong to me slave. You are nothing. You are—“ Dean shoved the knife into his side. 

“Save it.” Dean pulled the knife free. Two gunshots echoed through the armoire. He cut through the linen of James’s pants, the metal of the knife slipping over the pale skin of his ass. “Ever had someone shove something up your ass, Master?” His heart was hammering in his chest. The anger, the rage he had let loose before was burning through him…He shoved and James screamed, and blood poured out over his fingers as the hilt of the blade stopped against his skin.

James bent forward, trying to escape the blade, blood soaking his white pants and carpet as Dean pulled it out and shoved it back in. 

The armoire exploded and Dean staggered backward, pulling James with him. As the dust cleared, James sagged forward and Dean lost his grip on him. He was covered in blood as his father’s figure filled the door. “Dean?”

Dean nodded, staggered to James and fell to his knees beside him. “Dean, it’s okay. Let us handle him.” 

Dean rolled James over, his face cold. The bloody knife tore the front of his pants open and made quick work of his dick. Dean lifted it, held it where James could see it…and he watched as James bled out. 

“Dean.”

Strong arms were around him, holding him, pulling him away. “Sam? Sam?”

“He’s okay, Dean. He’s safe. Give me the knife.”

Dean looked at the bloody knife and up at his father. “Dad?”

His father nodded, his hand closing over the knife and stripping it out of his hand. “Yeah, Dean…Come on…”

Dean shook his head. The blood on his hands burned. He wiped it against his naked body. He killed master…His eyes caught on James’s face…the look of disbelief… the spattering of blood. “No…no…I…he’s dead…he’s dead….what…” He staggered to his knees, only then realizing he still held the man’s dick in his hand. “I cut him…I….cut him.” 

_Bad. Wrong. Bad. Never hurt master. Never hurt master._ Dean keened and rocked forward, dropping the bloody flesh from his hand. _Punishment_ …but there was no punishment for this…there was only death…he killed his Master….

“Dean?” His father was trying to move him, his voice distant.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice carried over the noise of others, of his father and Dean shook and couldn’t breathe, but he lifted his head. 

“Sam!”

“Take me….take me too him.” Dean gasped, lurching toward his father. “Need to see.”

John lifted him to his feet and Dean tried to help them move, but his limbs were numb and his head hurt…”Sam.” He gasped at the sight of his brother, reaching for him as his father slowly let him down onto the floor beside him. “Sam.”

Dean’s arms folded around Sam and pulled him against him. “My Sam.”

Sam relaxed visibly once Dean had his arms around him and John breathed a sigh of relief. His earphone crackled and he turned away from the boys. “Team W. Mission success. Target acquired.”

Ellen’s voice filled his ear. “Are they…?”

“They’re alive. We have…Robert.”

“The floor is clean.” John looked up at the hunter, Peter something. He met John’s eyes. “We rescued eight prisoners on this floor. Everyone else is dead.”

John nodded and sighed. “Time for us to pull out…leave the clean up to the demolition team.” He turned to his boys, huddled into one another. “Bring me a med kit and some blankets. We’ll need stretchers.”

“What about him?” Peter nodded at Robert. 

“Bobby will want to deal with him. Take him out of here, and keep him under guard.”

Someone handed him a med kit and he took it. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like a few minutes with my boys.” 

The suite emptied slowly and John went to kneel beside Dean. They were both only semi-conscious, but he wasn’t going to take any chances that they would wake up and freak out. He needed to get them to safety. Dean’s eyes drifted open and looked at him.

“I’m going to give you both a little something, okay?” 

“Sam first.” Dean whispered and John nodded. 

“Okay.” Sam didn’t move as the needle bit into his arm, and John tried not to let that hurt as much as it did. “Your turn.” Dean watched the needle sink into his arm. “You were so brave Dean. I’m so proud of you.” John’s hand caressed his face as Dean relaxed and his eyes closed again. “When you wake up, we’ll be someplace safe…”

 

Caleb looked up as the door opened. He’d been forgotten, left alone since Sam had been taken away. He was grateful for the respite, but worried…afraid for Sam. He blinked as the lights came up and Gordon stood there in front of him. “Control, we found Caleb. Final sweep of the lower floors commencing.”

Gordon moved closer. “Okay, Caleb. I’m gonna get you out of here.” His hands followed the chains down to the shackles and carefully loosened them. “Easy, okay…move slow….your back’s a mess.”

Caleb’s arms fell to the ground as Gordon released them, heavy and hurting and he could feel the strain on the scabbed over wounds in his back. His jaw worked as Gordon removed the gag. “Sam,” he croaked the name out, looking up at Gordon.

“John’s gone after him. Can you move?”

Caleb shook his head. His legs were numb. “No. Help me sit.” Gordon supported him as he shifted so that he was sitting on his ass, then slowly straightened his legs for him. “Give me a minute.”

“I don’t know that we have one. Charges have already been set. We need to move.” 

Caleb nodded. Gordon was not the man he would have preferred to find him, but then again, the man was good at what he did, even if his ethics were questionable. 

Gordon looked up as one of his team appeared at the door. “This is one of ours, get him out and up to a medic. I’ll finish the sweep on this floor.”

Caleb let the man help him up and support him, but stopped him at the door. “Gordon. I—thank you.”

Gordon smiled and lifted his gun to his shoulder. “Don’t mention it. I’ll let you pay me back sometime.”

 

Bobby emerged into the sunlight, squinting a little as he rubbed the soot from his face. His team moved on ahead, dispersing as the charges started to rock the ground and more people emerged from the various entrances to the building. 

He spotted John, following two stretchers. His heart fell to his stomach. If those boys were dead…if his son had gotten those two boys killed…John would never speak to him again…not after…Robert was going to have to pay…and Bobby would be the one to extract the price…because John was too good a friend, and those boys were too dear to him not to. 

He saw John stop, turning his way. Something in his stride told Bobby they’d found Robert. His stomach turned and it was hard for him to turn to face John as he approached. “Are they…?”

John shook his head lightly. “They’re alive. Sam’s….shit…” John stopped and doubled over, breathing heavily. “They’re alive. That’s what matters.”

Bobby nodded. His voice was cold when he spoke again. “And Robert?”

John straightened up. “He’s secure.”

“Where is he?”

“Not yet, Bobby.” 

“What do you mean?” He wanted it t to be over. He wanted it to end. He looked up at his friend, into his eyes. Of course, even when he’d handled Robert it wasn’t going to be over. 

“Not today, Bobby. He’s secure. We have the boys. There’s been a lot of blood shed today.”

Bobby bowed his head. “I won’t wait long.”

John nodded. “For now, let’s take care of the wounded…get out of here before the authorities show up.”

Bobby watched John walk away, felt the heat as the fire started to consume the building at his back. Part of him wished it would consume him too.

 

The motel room had been turned into something of a triage, with wounded hunters being tended by others, the smell of blood and antiseptic strong in the air. It was only one of the rooms set up to handle first aid. Ellen slipped in, her eyes scanning the room. She found Caleb laying on the bed, his back being cleaned. 

“I was worried.” Ellen said, her hand sliding down to let him grip it was the medic cleaned a nasty looking gash. 

He breathed through the pain and tried to smile for her. “Someone had to get inside.”

“Right.” She licked her lips and forced her eyes away from his back. “How are you doing?”

He nodded. “I’ll be okay….Just tell me they found Sam.”

“He’s in another room, Doc Brays is with him.”

“He okay?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.”

“God, the things they did to him.” Caleb made a pained whimper and bit the pillow under his face. “They…made me…watch…”

She closed her eyes and brushed a hand over his arm. She’d never tell him that she’d seen…that she knew exactly what they’d done to Sam. “Shh…easy, Caleb. You couldn’t have done anything.”

He looked up at her. “No…he…they used me to break him, Ellen. He let them do…things…so they wouldn’t hurt me.” His voice cracked. “John…god, he’s going to hate me…”

“John’s got bigger worries right now Caleb. He knows you tried to help….He knows…”

Caleb yelled as the medic poured antiseptic onto his back. “Go check on Sam. I need to know he’s okay.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll be back.” She kissed his forehead, and left the room.

Three doors down, she let herself into the room, and pressed herself against the door. Dean was stretched out on the nearest bed, his welted back exposed over the blankets. On the other bed, Sam was laying on his right side, his left leg obviously broken and laying on several pillows. 

John sat with his son’s head in his lap, his hands smoothing over his hair while Doc Brays examined him. Not an actual doctor, he was the closest thing they had…a former marine medic and veterinarian who had been stitching up the hunter community for years. “I’m going to have to set the leg. It’s a pretty bad break.”

She saw John nod. “The rest…I won’t lie to you, he’s beat up bad. But there isn’t much we can do. Rest, something for the pain…and time.” Doc Brays backed off a pace and reached for his bag. “I’m going to need to gather some supplies for the leg.”

Ellen moved out of his way, then hesitantly closer to the beds. “Anything I can do?”

John shook his head, his eyes closed. She came to stand beside him, her hand stroking through his hair in echo of his in Sam’s. “I’m here…okay?”

He didn’t answer, just leaned into her, his head against her stomach. “I’m right here.”


	22. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As recovery begins, Bobby and John set to work in getting Robert to talk. Dean fights his conditioning to reveal a secret about Robert, who returns the favor.

Twenty four hours after the last of their people left the compound in flames, only a handful remained in town. The parking lot of the motel seemed empty now as Ellen leaned against the railing outside one of the rooms they still occupied. They’d gotten away light, managed to get the wounded patched up and moved out…all but Sam and Dean and Caleb…and the room full of broken people they didn’t know what to do with. 

A total of twenty-two men and women, in various stages of programming. Most of them didn’t even remember their own names. Those that did were far to broken to be much help. Doc Brays had checked them over and recommended they get turned over to psychiatric care…but they couldn’t just dump twenty people on the local psych ward. They weren’t even sure that the local hospital wasn’t part of the organization. It was obvious from the response of the local authorities that at least some of them knew exactly what had been going on at that compound.

Ellen sighed and huddled deeper into herself.

They had to deal with Robert yet too. And John had kept both Sam and Dean sedated. He’d put Bobby down too. Not that she disagreed, in fact, she’d threatened the big man herself if he didn’t get some sleep too. That left her, alone, in the approaching dark. Well, maybe not alone. She could see the tip of Gabe’s cigarette down at the end of the building where his father wouldn’t see. 

She couldn’t begrudge the kid a bad habit or two, not after the last few days. He’d seen more than most people, and she saw how it haunted him. This whole thing was fucked…and it had fucked up just about all of them in one way or another. She sighed again and turned to the room behind her.

He was in the corner, in a chair shoved into the corner of the room, his hands bound behind his back, his feet bound together, a gag cutting the corners of his mouth. She stood at the door and stared at him.

He stared back.

Part of her wanted to leave him there, let Bobby do with him whatever it was Bobby thought would make this right. Instead she went to the bathroom and filled a glass with water.

“I’m going to remove your gag and give you some water. If you make any noise at all, I’ll knock you out.”

He nodded and she reached for the gag. She let him work out the tension in his jaw before she held up the water. He took a few long drinks, then pulled back. “Thank you,” he said quietly and she nodded. 

“Seemed the right thing. Be a while 'fore your Daddy’s ready for you.” She moved the glass well away from him, setting it on the dresser. “Meantime, I suggest you get some sleep. Don’t expect it’ll go easy on you when he is.” 

She moved the gag back, making sure it was secure before she left him again. The door opened and Gabe came in. “Thanks for giving me the break.”

Ellen smiled. “I’m sorry you got stuck with this duty.”

Gabe shook his head. “Don’t be. At least I feel like I’ve done something to contribute.”

She rubbed his arm. “You did a remarkable job today, Gabe.”

“Yeah…wait to say that after we see if I got anything useful off the computers before they started wiping them.”

She smiled and nodded. “Make sure you get some sleep tonight too, you know?”

He nodded as she left him. The tired was pulling at her bones and she reminded herself that mothering that many men was difficult enough, and on less sleep than most of them, she shouldn’t even be standing. She paused to check on Sam and Dean, and once assured they were sleeping, she let herself into the adjoining room where Bobby was knocked out on one bed and John was looking at her from the other. 

She sighed and toed off her shoes, nodding as John held the blankets up for her. She unzipped her jeans and dropped them by the bed before sliding into the warm cocoon of blankets and arms…settling with her head on his chest, soothed down toward sleep by the gentle movement of his breathing.

 

It was dark. Quiet. 

_Hurt Master. Killed Master_

Dean flinched, even as he came awake, came up out of the bed and backed into the nearest corner. The bed was too soft, the blankets too warm. He felt sticky…sweat and blood and come…hands…He slid down the wall, covering his head, cowering away from them…

_Bad. Wrong. Punish._

He swallowed the sound of his fear. The collar was gone. His neck felt bare, empty.

_Nothing. No one. Alone._

Lights flashed in the window over his head and he ducked further into himself. Voices wandered down the parking lot and faded into nothing. Dean breathed slowly, pushing his hands flat against the floor in an attempt to ground himself.

He wasn’t in the cage. He wasn’t in Master’s bed. He opened his eyes slowly. It was a motel room. He took a deep breath and willed the wild pounding of his heart to slow. He found Sam. He found Sam and took care of Sam.

His eyes scanned the room and fell on Sam in the other bed. Dad. He had come for them. He had come and taken them out of there…away from Master…Dean shook as the image of James laying bloody on the floor came to him. He looked down at shaking hands, expecting them to still be covered in blood.

He’d been covered in it. Dean wiped his hands against his skin…but couldn’t escape the feeling of it on him. He killed him. There was no punishment for that. They’d kill him. Beat him to death…or worse.

No. They couldn’t hurt him. Them. He looked at Sam again. It was okay. Sam was okay. Slowly, Dean got up, half expecting Thomas or one of the trainers to come bursting through the door and drag him away. He inched his way across the room in the dark, until he was beside Sam’s bed.

His left leg was in a plaster cast, laying outside the blankets, propped up on pillows. He was on his side, his bruised back looking angry and unforgiving in the gloom of the room. “Sam.” Dean whispered. “My Sam.” 

Gently, so not to wake him or cause him pain, Dean slid into bed, facing Sam. He kissed his forehead, then his cheeks, then froze. _Never touch another slave without a direct order_ He closed his eyes. “My Sam.”

In his sleep, Sam’s hand found Dean’s and curled around it, pulling it to his chest and holding it. The slow exhale sounded a lot like his name and Dean pushed the voice in his head away, clinging to Sam instead.

 

Bobby woke and rose as quietly as he could. John and Ellen slept in the bed next to him, John spooned around her back comfortably. Judging by the light coming in around the curtains it was early morning. He didn’t begrudge his friend for the drugs he could still feel working their way through his system. He needed the sleep, needed to get his head on straight.

Robert. John had left him alive because he’d be easier to break than any of the others…because Bobby should be the one to deal with him…and Bobby would…break him, deal with him…kill him…His son. His boy. 

He ran his hand over his beard and searched out his shoes. He was almost to the door when John’s hand caught on his shoulder. “Not alone.”

Bobby nodded tightly. “Yeah okay.” He watched as John pulled on jeans and his boots. Ellen stirred, rolling to look up at them.

“Want me to come?” she asked sleepily.

Bobby shook his head. She didn’t need to see…he didn’t think he could go through with it if she was watching him. John leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Check on the boys? Sam will be needing something for the pain by now.”

She nodded, her eyes warm chocolate as they gazed up at him. Bobby ached with how tender it seemed, especially when those eyes came to him and the warm affection shifted to something more like pity. “Ready?” he asked John who nodded. 

“Yeah, come on.”

 

Allen sat on the bed, a laptop open, scrolling through information when Gabe let them into the room. Robert seemed to be asleep, or faking it well. “How do you want to do this?” John asked as Bobby stopped in the center of the room.

“I don’t want to do this at all.” Bobby muttered, running his hand over his face for about the fifth time in as many minutes. “Just…back me up.”

John nodded, turning to Gabe and Allen. “You two want to do a breakfast run?”

Allen smiled and closed up the laptop. “Yeah, we can do that.” He held up the laptop. “You should see the data Gabe managed to pull before they wiped the system.”

John gave him a look that clearly said _Later_ and Allen smiled. “Coffee all the way around?”

Together John and Bobby pulled Robert’s chair into the center of the room. He started awake, his eyes wide and fearful as they found the two men standing over him. Bobby crossed his arms and John backed off.

“You should be dead right now. There’s only one reason you’re not, and it ain’t that you’re my son. You’re going to tell us everything you know. You’re going to do it quickly, quietly and without lying to us.”

Bobby watched Robert’s face as he reached for the gag, lowering it. Robert’s eyes, dark, like his mother’s looked up at Bobby, scared, vulnerable. “Dad?”

Bobby closed his eyes and exhaled slowly before landing a backhand across Robert’s face, making his head snap to the side. “How long?”

“Is Sam okay?”

Bobby felt John stir, anger rustling around the room like an autumn wind. “Never you mind about Sa—“

“Please. I just want to know he’s okay.”

Bobby looked at him, his face hard, cold. “Okay, Robert? Okay? You gave him to fucking rapists. You let him be beaten and raped repeatedly. You did that.”

“No…no…” Robert shook his head, tears in his eyes. “He was going to be mine….I wanted to take care of him—“

Bobby hit him again, hard, across the other cheek. Robert lowered his eyes. “Please, let me know he’s okay.”

John’s voice was a low rumble of pain and barely contained anger. “Sam is hurt pretty bad, son. May not walk right again, may not be right ever again.”

 

Sam came up from the swirling colors of his dreams slowly, grasping a hand to his chest…a warm, familiar hand. He shifted, and felt the pain slowly registering. He didn’t know where he was, but it didn’t feel…unfamiliar. He opened his eyes slowly to find Dean watching him.

Memory sort of bubbled up…Dean helping him clean himself…Dean leaving him to go to Master…Robert…their father…Sam’s breath caught in his chest and he blinked heavily. “Dean?” He whispered it, afraid of anything more…afraid this was just a dream.

Dean nodded slowly, his eyes on Sam’s. “You okay, Sammy?” Dean’s free hand stroked Sam’s face and Sam nodded. 

“’M okay, Dean. Hurts…but okay.”

Dean kissed his cheek. “He won’t touch you now. Won’t touch anyone.”

Something in the way he said that chilled Sam, and Dean’s eyes drifted away from his. “What did you do?”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

A door opened and they both stiffened. Sam blinked at the woman approaching. He looked back at Dean who rolled to see who had come in. “Hey, you boys okay?” Her voice was rich and smooth and Sam liked the sound of it. “Your daddy asked me to check on you and see if you needed anything.”

Dean shifted so he was sitting. “Where’s Dad?”

Ellen didn’t really look comfortable answering that question. “He’s with Bobby.”

“With Robert.” Dean said and she nodded sadly.

“Yes, sweetie, with Robert.”

Sam tried to sit up and winced as pain lanced through his leg. “Robert? He’s here?” Panic crept up inside him, and Dean’s hands were instantly on his head, in his hair. “Why?”

“Dad has questions, Sammy.” Dean said. “About Gorlian.”

Okay…that made sense. Sam relaxed a little, then tensed again as his leg hurt and throbbed. His back wasn’t far behind…and he knew that his ass would hurt too if he tried to sit up. “Let me take care of that for you at least.” Ellen said, moving to the dresser and coming back with some pills and a bottle of water. “Here…that should help.”

Sam didn’t argue, just took them, nodding his gratitude. Suddenly, Dean was sliding out of the bed. “I need to see my father…before…just…” Dean looked nervous. “What room?”

“Oh, honey…you don’t need to go down there.” Ellen said, her voice soft. “Why don’t you lay down with Sam…keep him company.”

Dean shook his head. “No. He needs to know…I need to tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Sam felt the panic ride up further…he reached for Dean who let him clutch his hand. He remembered Robert’s voice, felt his hands on his skin. “Dean?”

Dean turned to him, his face unreadable. “Stuff, about Robert.”

“What about him, Dean? What? He-he—did this to us…he—“ No…he’d decided Dean wouldn’t know that…would never know that Robert had touched him, fucked him…

Sam closed his eyes as he remembered the way his hands had touched him…the way Robert’s voice had been soft in his ear… _“I love you so much. I can’t stand watching them hurt you. Make it stop, baby. You know how. Just tell him you want to be good. Tell him you want to serve him. You want to learn to be a good slave for your master.”_ Sam made a face and turned away.

Dean sat on the side of the bed, holding his hand. “Sam?” His other hand cupped Sam’s face and Sam pulled away…too much like his…too gentle… Dean sighed and Sam blinked away tears.

“Sorry…I…just...”

Dean shook his head. “It’s okay, Sam. Bobby needs to know about Robert.”

“I think Bobby does know, Dean, honey.” Ellen said.

He stood again. “No, not everything. Can you stay with Sam? I don’t want him alone.” 

Ellen stared at him, then nodded. “They’re in room 16.”

 

Room 16. Dean found it and hesitated. Robert had brought this down on them, had traded him for…for a chance to own Sam…He had stolen Sam, and touched him…and given him to Master.

He knocked. There was some shifting sounds, the curtains moved, then his father was opening the door. “Dean?”

He didn’t say anything right away, just pushed into the room, past his startled father. Bobby came out of the bathroom with a washcloth, wiping blood off his hands. Robert was tied to the chair, his nose bloody, one eye darkened and swollen. Dean stopped a few steps away, his jaw tense and tight.

“Dean, you shouldn’t be here.” Bobby said, his voice filled with gravel.

Dean shook his head and took the last few steps, his eyes locked on Robert’s. “He’s bleeding.” Dean said dumbly, lifting one hand to wipe at the blood. Then he shook himself and took a deep breath. His words for Bobby, though his eyes never left Robert’s. “You should know what I know. Master—“ He hesitated, his eyes closing as he shivered. “What _he_ told me. About Robert.”

“Dean?” John was behind him now and Dean reached a shaking hand to pull aside Robert’s shirt, where Master had cut it, exposing the small scar and tracing it with one finger. Then he pulled up his own t-shirt and traced his own.

“Like me…like Sam.”

“Shut up.” Robert said abruptly. “Shut up. I am not…you’re a fucking whore!” Bobby’s hand crashed into the side of Robert’s face. Dean looked up at him, startled. 

“He…they took him, were going to…train him.” Dean’s voice sounded broken and weak. He hated it. Hated even more that he was leaning into his father…leaning on his strength. 

“Is this true, Robert?” Bobby asked.

Robert looked away and held his tongue, until Bobby’s hand touched the mark, the “J” etched into his skin. “I wasn’t pretty enough though, was I? Never pretty enough next to you.” He spit his words at Dean. “Not for them…not for Sam.” He spit blood out onto the carpet, his eyes flashing angrily. 

“He traded information for his freedom.” Dean said, looking up at his father. “There were two girls in Vegas.”

“Liar!” Robert screamed, his eyes wild as he strained at the ropes holding him. 

“And me…me for Sam.”

“I love Sam.” Robert wasn’t ready for Dean’s hand to come flying out and hit him, a full fist into his cheek and he bit his lip.

“You are a sick fuck.” Dean said through clenched teeth. “You can sit there and say that, knowing what they did to him? You can look at me and say that?”

“You’re just jealous.” Robert said, soft, but it cut through to Dean, stopped him when he would have hit him again. “Jealous that he gave in for me…that he wanted me…you’ve always been jealous of how much Sam loved me.”

Dean turned away, his fists curled tight against his chest. “No.”

“That’s why you did it….you didn’t want him, you just didn’t want me to have him.” Robert’s voice didn’t lift but it took on a dangerous tone. “You saw how much I loved him and you took him out there to that car and fucked him…to keep him away from me.”

“I’m warning you, Robert.” Bobby said, stepping closer again.

“Yeah, well I’ve fucked him now too…and he liked it…said I was better…said he knew how sick it was to let his brother do those things to him.” His eyes went to John’s, his face a sneer. “Did you know? They’ve been at it for years…since Sammy was fifteen…that summer…I saw them. He knew I wanted Sam and he couldn’t stand to let me have him.”

Dean could feel the anger crackling in his father, but wasn’t sure where it was directed. He backed off a step. “Sam never would have—“ Dean stopped himself, turning away. He’d said what he came to say, gave Bobby the information he needed. He should just go…go back to Sam.

“You deserved it, you fucking pervert…you made such a pretty slave, Dean.”

The fury burned through him and before he could stop himself he had pushed Robert’s chair over and was beating at him. Then John’s hands were on him, pulling him off and out of the room. Once the door was closed, Dean sagged against his father, shaking. “Dad…I…” 

John shook his head. “Now isn’t the time. Let’s get you back to Sam. Let me and Bobby deal with Robert.” 

 

Dean climbed into bed beside Sam, curling up and making himself as small as possible. He didn’t look at Ellen or his father, not even at Sam…just curled up and closed his eyes. His father knew. Knew that it wasn’t just after…knew that Dean had done things to Sam, things that brothers don’t do. Dean hid his face as Ellen murmured to John and Sam shifted closer, his breath on Dean’s cheek.

“Okay?” Sam asked and Dean shook his head. 

“No. No. He knows.”

Sam looked at him confused, but John was there and Dean ducked his head under the blanket. “How you feeling, Sam?” His father’s voice was deep and something about it made him feel safe.

“Dopey, after the pain pills.”

John nodded. He looked like he wanted to touch him, but didn’t know how or where. “Doc says the leg should heal okay, as long as you don’t get up around on it too soon…might walk with a limp for a bit.”

He wasn’t sure of himself, a thing Sam wasn’t used to. His father was always the strong one, quiet, but confident. It was a little unnerving. Suddenly, Sam remembered Caleb. “Tell me you got him…Caleb, I mean. You found him?”

John nodded. “He’s resting. He wants to see you though.” Sam shook his head, pulling back. 

“No…he…saw…no…please? Just tell me he’s going to be okay?”

Ellen nodded. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

“Good.”

“You need anything else?” John asked and Sam shook his head. “Okay. I’ll be back in a bit. I need to go make sure that Bobby’s okay.”

 

John got back to room 16 to find Robert still on his back, the gag shoved into his mouth, and Bobby gone…probably to work through what he now knew about his son. John stood staring at Robert, his gun drawn. Robert’s eyes blazed at him…dared him…begged him…and he could do it…son of a friend or not…after everything…because he’d done unspeakable things…and he wasn’t going to give them any more information than he already had…and…he was a monster…even more than that bastard James had been…a monster who thought he was in love with Sam.

Yes, John thought as he steadied his trembling hands on the gun. He could kill this son of a bitch without regret…


	23. Reconcilliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby tries to reconcile what he has learned about Robert, Dean and Sam try to reconcile what their father has learned about them and Sam reconciles his anger and fear of Robert

Bobby left the motel room and kept walking, across the barely two lane road that led into the small town, and into the local bar. Two men sat at a table off near a jukebox spinning old fashioned country music and a bartender who looked like he’d seen better days leaned on the bar.

“Whiskey.” Bobby said, not even looking up. It was barely ten in the morning and he hadn’t eaten in more than twenty-four hours…but he needed a drink.

The bartender nodded and set a glass down in front of him, pouring a generous shot. Bobby’s hand stopped him as he pulled away. “Leave the bottle.”

He should have killed him. Should have never let John find out about his boys. Not like that. Should have shot his son in the head when he knew he’d given them everything he knew. Shouldn’t have let John stop him. Shouldn’t have let Dean in the room. 

Bobby downed the whiskey, and poured a second glass.

The whole thing turned his stomach. It wasn’t as though Dean’s revelation changed anything. Nothing could justify what Robert did to Sam…to Dean…not to mention whatever two girls in Vegas…god only knew what had happened to them.

Bobby downed the whiskey, and poured a third glass.

Robert was his son, his responsibility…but something had gone seriously wrong with that boy…something he’d never seen. He could try to justify it, say he hardly saw the boy…say his mother always was a little soft in the head…but when it came right down to it, Bobby knew.

Bobby downed the whiskey and dropped some money on the bar, grabbing the bottle to take back to the motel with him. John was leaning on the rail outside the room where they had Robert when he came back, staring at the gun in his hands. Bobby stopped and John looked up.

Neither of them spoke. After a long moment, Bobby held out the bottle and John took it, tipping his head back and pouring the gold liquid into his mouth, closing his eyes as he swallowed. He handed it back just as silently and looked back down at the gun. Slowly he tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

“Gabe and Allen are back with food.”

Bobby nodded. “Best to leave it for now anyway.”

“He’s not going anywhere.”

 

Gabe knocked lightly on the door between the rooms before he opened it. Sam sat on the nearer bed, propped up with pillows behind him and under his leg, flipping through the television channels. He looked up and managed a half smile. Gabe smiled back, his eyes looking for Dean and finding him in the corner near the front window, squatting with his back to the wall, looking lost, broken.

“I brought breakfast.” Gabe said, holding up McDonald’s bags.

Dean stood at the sound of his voice, his hollow eyes seeking out Sam’s first, then coming up to Gabe’s. “Yes. You need to eat Sam.”

“So do you Dean.” Sam said, his voice tired and scratchy. Dean nodded absently and came to the bed. 

Gabe’s eyes followed the movement and he suddenly felt like he was watching something he shouldn’t be. He put the bags on the bed. “I—my dad needs me.”

Sam nodded, watching him disappear back behind the door. “Come eat with me Dean.”

Dean shook his head. “Not hungry.”

Sam looked up at him. He’d been shut down since their father brought him back, wouldn’t tell him what happened, what Robert said or did…or why he was still there…or what was going to happen. It made him feel like he was ten again and Dean was trying to protect him from finding out that he’d beat up the bully who’d made Sam skin his knees.

“Please, Dean?” Sam reached out his hand and Dean came to him, then pulled away as soon as they touched.

“He knows.” 

It was the third or fourth time he’d said that since he’d come back. “Who knows what, Dean?”

Dean’s face was white. “Robert told him…about us…about you and me…about us…”

Sam shivered. “Dad knows?” 

Dean paced away. “What exactly, Dean? What does he know?”

“Bad…knows I’m bad…” He stopped pacing and turned, suddenly more himself. “He knows I fucked my brother, Sam. He’s gonna kick the shit out of me.”

Sam could feel panic nibbling at his outer edges…panic that Dean was right…that their father would hurt Dean for it…for letting Sam seduce him, for giving in to his begging…panic that Robert was still breaking Dean…that Robert could still break them both. 

Dean sat on the edge of the bed. “He thinks he’s in love with you, Sam. Thinks you loved him…”

Sam reached for his hand and shook his head. “No, Dean. You…always you. Only you.”

“Said I was perverted.”

Sam smiled a little. “Well…even a sick fuck like him is bound to be right once in a while.” Dean’s head popped up, but he grinned when he saw Sam’s face and his smirk.

The smile faded fast and Dean squeezed his hand. “He…said…he…touched you…that he…”

Sam closed his eyes. No…”I never wanted you to know.”

Dean’s free hand caressed his cheek. “Want to know everything, Sam.”

Sam couldn’t help the tears. “I…I’m so ashamed, Dean…to…god…the way he…touched me and the things he said…” Sam leaned into his brother’s touch. “It was that first day…in the van. They drugged me…I couldn’t stop it…I couldn’t even try. I screamed…but I couldn’t move…and I kept telling myself I could handle it…I could be strong…but he was…gentle…he told me he loved me and wanted me to be with him forever.”

Dean moved a little closer, leaning forward until his forehead connected with Sam’s. “It’s okay Sammy…its okay…you did good. You held on until I could come for you.”

“He…its all because of me.” Sam whispered across Dean’s lips. “You must hate me…” He groaned and his stomach burned. “Please don’t hate me Dean…I can’t…I need you. Need you so much.”

Dean’s kiss was soft, his lips warm. “Don’t hate you Sam. Never hate you. You came for me,” he murmured.

Sam pressed forward, kissing him back. “You came for me,” he whispered back. 

“Guess we’re stuck with each other then.” Dean’s lips opened against his and Sam let his tongue steal into his brother’s mouth. Dean’s hand slipped from his cheek to the back of his neck, and Sam suddenly felt other hands, grabbing, touching, pulling…he gasped and yanked himself back, shivering as he covered his face and turned away. “Sam?”

“I’m sorry…Dean…god, I can’t…I…can’t.”

“My fault.” Dean was gone, off the bed, away toward the bathroom. “Too soon, too much. I’m…I’m gonna take a shower…you…you eat. Okay?”

Sam drew a deep breath and watched the door close. Dean tasted like bad hotel coffee, acid and bite. Robert had tasted like stale beer. Sam swallowed and tried to head the memory off before it took over, but it only changed from that kiss in the cage to the feeling of his cock pushing into him…the way his hands knew all the places on his back and how to touch them…The way he _knew_ exactly how Dean touched him…when to lick…when to pinch…How Sam had cried Dean’s name into the gag when he came and Robert had pulled out of him, leaving him cold and empty and dripping come…but only after pulling his hair and biting down on Sam’s neck…marking him, claiming him.

Sam swallowed and looked toward the bathroom as he heard the shower come on. His heart was racing. He knew they had killed…the hunters, his father,…had killed everyone at the compound. Everyone but Robert. And Robert was here. In room 16.

It hurt like nothing he’d ever felt, but Sam moved until he could get his good foot on the floor and swing the heavy cast down. He wasn’t exactly mobile…but with a little effort, he managed, dragging the cast until he could reach under the pillow on Dean’s bed for the gun he saw his father put there earlier. He checked the load and dragged his broken leg to the door. 

He was relieved when he discovered that his father’s adjoining room was on his right and 16 was to the left. It was going to be slow going, and he wasn’t sure he’d have what it took to slip past the window unnoticed. As it was, Dean would be out of the bathroom before long. 

Sam limped, pulled and practically crawled down the two doors and nearly cried in frustration and exhaustion when he realized that of course the door would be locked. He looked around him for a way in. “Fuck.”

He could break the window, but didn’t think he could haul his cast encased leg up and through it. Then he saw movement in the room, a shadow on the window. Of course, his father wouldn’t have left him alone. He’d have left someone in there with him.

Whoever was in there wouldn’t let him in, they’d call his father…unless he was forceful. He could be forceful. He hid the gun behind his back and knocked lightly. The door cracked open, then shut as whoever was inside slid the chain off. “Sam?”

“Caleb?” Sam’s voice was little more than a squeak and if he wasn’t already ready to collapse he would have turned and run. 

“You shouldn’t be up. You should be—“

Sam shook his head and grabbed onto the door jamb to pull himself forward. “Need to see him.”

“Sam—“

But Sam pushed himself past Caleb, into the room, stopping short as he found Robert. He was tied to a chair, gagged, his face purple, his nose broken at a strange angle. His eyes bugged when they saw Sam and his breathing sounded distressed.

“You should go Caleb.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

Sam lifted the gun, pointed it at Robert and limped closer. “Go away Caleb…You don’t need to see this…”

“Sam, think about this.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t think you do.” Caleb’s hand was on his arm. “Sam, you’re not this person.”

His voice shook, but his eyes never left Robert’s. “I wasn’t…but you saw, Caleb…you know what they did to me. It’s because of him.” Sam pulled his arm out of Caleb’s hands, staggering closer. His hand shook as he pressed the gun into Robert’s face, into the bruised skin above the gag. “Dean…was gone for a year. A fucking year…because of him.” Sam punctuated “him” with a push of the muzzle. 

“Sam…we need to let your Dad and Bobby handle this.”

“No…it didn’t happen to them. It happened to Dean and to me. My fault, my responsibility.” Sam leaned in close to Robert’s face. “You raped me, you sick fuck…and you can dress it up all pretty in your head thinking that you love me…but the truth is that you couldn’t stand that I loved Dean…I will always love Dean…always.”

Robert lifted his head, pressing into the gun, his eyes challenging, daring. The door behind Sam opened and his resolve wavered some.

“Sam?”

“Stay away Dean.” Sam adjusted his grip and shifted his weight, grimacing at the pain shooting through his leg. “You did this.” Sam whispered to Robert, wanting him to understand, to know. Dean wasn't alone. Sam's father was there, behind him, his hands were on Sam's shoulders, and Sam closed his eyes. “You did this, Robert.”

The shot rang out, the gun fell to the floor and Sam collapsed, barely caught by his father’s arms. “Oh god…I shot him…I shot him.” Sam held onto his father, twisting to look up at Bobby who stood stunned beside John, staring. “Bobby…oh god…I’m sorry…I’m…oh god.” 

His stomach heaved and he bent forward, his head reeling. Bobby, he shot Bobby’s son…Everything was so fucked up. “He did it…he did this to us.” He realized on some level that he was babbling, tried to stop…he was shaking…cold…all he could hear was his own breathing…then Bobby was on his knees, pulling Sam up into his arms and holding on to him, his hands soothing over Sam’s hair.

“It’s okay, Son. It’s okay,” on endless repeat in a monotone as the two older men held him, rocking him gently. 

His father’s voice purred through his body, but Sam couldn’t make out words, couldn’t look up, couldn’t see anything. His face was sticky with blood…with Robert’s blood and his body quivered.

He didn’t feel the needle at first and by the time he did he couldn’t focus enough to see who’d done it, but then his father was lifting him, pulling him to his feet, holding him like he was a kid. “That’s it. Put your head on my shoulder Sammy…I’ve got you.”

“Dad?” Everything seemed distant, buzzy around the edges. 

“Go to sleep Sam. It’s all a dream. It’ll all be over soon.”

 

They hovered outside the room, like they could somehow change something…like their presence would make something better…though for Sam or John…or Bobby, Ellen couldn’t begin to know. Caleb and Gabe stood outside of 16. Bobby stood somewhere between. She and Allen waited in front of 14, Sam and Dean’s room. Dean was huddled up against the wall on the other side of the door. 

No one spoke. They watched to see if anyone would come looking after the gun shot. They made sure no one tracked any blood out of the room. When the door opened and John emerged, the group moved as one, half step closer.

“He’s sleeping. Will for a while. We should clean up and get lost.” His eyes tracked to where Dean stood and he turned. “Go sit with him, okay? He needs you.”

Dean looked up, then nodded and moved slowly for the door. “Ellen, we’re going to need someplace safe we can stay a while, away from people if possible.”

“I’m already on it, there’s a place about 6 hours from here. Cabin, belongs to a friend.”

John nodded. He looked at Bobby. Despite everything, Robert was his son. Despite everything, Bobby had been ready to do it himself, but it was still something you just were never ready for. He moved over to Bobby, his hand coming down heavily on his shoulder. “Want me to give you something? Sleep until we’re ready to move?”

Bobby shook his head, looking at his hands. “I’ll take care of my boy.” He said it softly. 

“We can—“

“Damn it John, stop. Just back off and let me handle it.”

 

“I’m going to ride with Gabe and Allen.” Caleb said, wincing a little as his back twinged.

“You don’t need to follow us around, Caleb. You should go home, get rested.” John looked up from this repacking of his duffle. 

Caleb shook his head. “You’re a stubborn old fool, you know?”

John chuckled. “’Where do you think my boys got it from?”

Caleb smiled, his hands in his pockets. “I’m not leaving…not after…Sam’s going to need friends.”

John’s hands stopped moving restlessly, stilled on top of a stack of t-shirts. “What happened, Caleb?”

Caleb sighed and came to sit on the bed. “Today? Or in a broader sense?” John didn’t answer, just stared at his hands.

“I was sloppy…we were so close, and I didn’t see the second watch. They circled around before I even got into position. Hit me with a tranquilizer or something. When I came to, I was…in trouble.”

“Did they…”

“No.” Caleb got up to move around. “No…they beat me, but not…that…” How did he tell his friend that they used him instead to make Sam submit to _that_. “According to James, I wasn’t…the right sort of person…not young enough or something.”

“Sam…he said that it was his fault you were hurt.”

Caleb sighed again, playing with the McDonalds wrapper on the table. “James wanted to break Sam fast. He knew the fastest way to that wasn’t in threatening Sam.”

He felt John’s eyes and turned. “He beat me every time Sam resisted.”

“He saw that?”

Caleb nodded. “They made sure we both saw what was happening to the other.” If he closed his eyes, he could see it, as Sam’s eyes met his…as he knelt and exposed himself…He shook his head to clear and looked up at John. “It was bad John. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how bad.” 

“He thinks this is all his fault, all of it.” John finished throwing the last of his things into the bag and pulled the zipper shut. He was quiet for a long time, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “I don’t know what to do Caleb….don’t know how to make them better…don’t know how to…deal with this…It’s just…not real…how is this real?” He collapsed onto the bed and buried his face in his hands. “What kind of father am I?”

“None of this is your fault.” Caleb said softly. “You’re a good father, John.”

“What kind of father leaves them alone like that? Sam was wounded. Dean…god, Dean is so…lost….and I left them. Because I had to know…had to find the assholes who did this…instead of taking care of my boys.”

“If you hadn’t, and they found you, both you and Bobby would be dead. Dean would be sold to some…bastard with a need to dominate and Sam would still be there, under James…literally.” He meant the last word to sting, and he could tell it did. John flinched. “This isn’t easy, and it isn’t going to heal quickly. These people are vicious, John. More evil than anything we’ve ever hunted.”

John sighed. Caleb echoed the sound. “I hate to even say this out loud, John…but if they hadn’t grabbed Sam, we might never have found them.”

“And now, we have a chance.” 

Caleb nodded. “A good chance that we can get them all. Between what Robert told you, and what Gabe found…we can cripple them.”

 

Dean sat on the bed opposite Sam, watching him sleep. He was restless and fitful, despite the drugs in his system. Dean wasn’t sure what to think, or how to react. Everything was different now, and it left him feeling anxious and alone.

Master was dead. Now Robert was too. His father knew. They were leaving soon. Dean could hear the sounds of cars being loaded, doors being closed. Voices. The door opened behind them and he knew it was his father by the hesitant step, the soft sigh.

John walked past Dean and checked on Sam, then turned. “So…when you left me, you gave this to me, to hold on to.” He opened his palm and the silver ring lay there on his palm. “You had the collar on when I found you. Didn’t know what to do, so I took it off.”

Dean looked at the ring for a long time before he looked up at his father. “You were angry.” He was probably more angry now.

John shook his head. “Scared.”

“Scared?” Dean narrowed his gaze and licked his lips. “For me?”

“For both of you…for my boys. Both of you alone…and where I couldn’t help you. With those monsters.” He picked the ring up off his palm and held it between them. “I’d like it if you would take it back, wear it for me.”

Dean lowered his eyes, surprise coloring his voice. “You still want me?”

“What?” John cleared his throat. “Of course, Dean. I told you, you’re my son.”

Dean didn’t move. “I’ve been waiting for you to punish me.” There was no doubt it would come. He just didn’t figure it would help to bring it up. It hadn’t worked out well either time, with his father or with Sam.

John’s hand pulled his up, fitting the ring over his middle finger, where it had been before. “Punish you for what?” he asked, his voice soft.

Dean wanted to pull his hand free, wanted to be anywhere but so close to his father. “For what I did, for running away…for what happened to Sam. For what Robert told you.”

John grunted, a sound that Dean couldn’t interpret, then pulled him into a tight embrace. “You saved your brother Dean. It was very brave and I was telling you the truth when I told you I loved you and was proud of you. I’m not going to punish you. Do you understand?”

Dean nodded against John’s chest. “What about Sam? Me and Sam?”

John let go, pulled back, glancing at Sam once before answering. “We’ll talk about that later, okay? I’m not…I can’t have that talk right now.”

Dean nodded, not sure whether or not that meant his father would beat him over it later. “We’re almost ready out there. Gabe, Caleb and Allen are leaving first. We’ll follow. Ellen and Bobby will be behind us.”

“Is Bobby…okay?” 

John shrugged. “Hasn’t said much.”

He got to the door before Dean stood suddenly. “Dad?”

“Thank you. I didn’t know how else to keep him safe. I thought I was going to lose him. I thought you weren’t coming, that the helicopter went too far. But you came, and you take good care of us. And I thought you should know.”

John nodded, his hand still on the door. “Thank you Dean. That means a lot.”

“I love you, Dad. Sam too. He told me.”

John smiled, sparing a glance for his younger son. “I love you both too, Dean. Now, make sure you have everything. I’ll be in for Sam in a minute.”

“Yes, sir.”


	24. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby and Sam talk, John and Ellen do more than talk, Dean tries to figure out who he is now and what his place is and Sam starts to feel the strain of the whole ordeal.

Sam groaned, shifting uncomfortably and clinging to the vestiges of sleep. He didn’t want to be awake…didn’t want to face anything…wanted more of whatever drug they’d given him…more of the blessed dark empty nothingness.

The air was chill, and smelled vaguely of pine. Someone nearby moved and Sam stiffened. He opened his eyes and closed them quickly. He couldn’t face him, not now, not like this. Sam wanted to roll over, turn away, but he was weighted down by the cast and the remnants of the drug, his body heavy and unresponsive.

Sam opened his eyes again, just enough to see him, sitting in the chair, arms crossed, his head down as if he were dosing…but his head came up when he felt Sam’s eyes. His own eyes were rimmed in red. He looked odd without the ever present baseball cap. “Bobby.” Sam said it with pain and apology in his voice.

Bobby shook his head and sat forward, his arms uncrossed and propping on his knees as his hands scrubbed over his face. “Don’t blame yourself for this.” His voice was deep, deeper than Sam remembered. “You hear me?”

“I…killed him…I just…” Sam swallowed. He could feel it…the gun, the hot spray of blood. “He was your son.”

Bobby shook his head. “No, Sam. That wasn’t my boy. I lost him, a long time ago. I don’t know when or how…but that wasn’t my son.”

“He…he was…” Sam shook his head. Even now he didn’t understand. Robert had touched him with softness, with tenderness…and yet could turn him over to men like James. “I lost it…I didn’t mean to…but the way he hurt Dean…what he told my father…”

“That was my fault. I should have…ended it before he could. I should never have let your Daddy find out like that.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, sitting up a little to stare at Bobby. “Wait.” He shook his head. “You…knew?”

Bobby’s eyes dropped to stare at his hands, and he nodded slowly. “You two weren’t exactly subtle about it.”

Sam cursed and fell back against the pillow. “How long?”

“Almost since it started.” Bobby sighed. “I figured you both needed something in your lives that wasn’t all about the hunt. Figured you’d…hell, I don’t know. But it wasn’t my place.”

Sam reeled a little with the information. “Robert…he…must have seen…he…”

Bobby’s hand touched his good leg. “Maybe it’s best we let Robert be. He’s gone now. No one will ever find the body, Sam. No one need ever know. His mother died years ago.” Bobby stood, reaching for the med kit on the nightstand and holding up a syringe. “He’s not going to hurt you anymore.” 

He didn’t ask if Sam wanted the drugs, just slipped the needle into his arm. “You sleep. We’re safe. Dean is in the next room. Your Daddy’s downstairs. And I promise you that no one is going to touch you like that again.”

 

Ellen poured coffee before sitting beside John and letting her hand slip comfortably onto his thigh. He smiled vaguely at her then turned his attention to the computer in front of him. “Is this everything?”

Gabe nodded, holding his cup of coffee close to his face. “Everything but those odd encrypted files I pulled. Gordon and a small team are headed for Aspen. The facility there is small…according to what I found it’s a place for training the trainers. My father’s gathering another team to scope out the place in Florida. They should be there tomorrow.”

John nodded, paging through the list of facilities and land and notes from Gabe and Allen. “And the prisoners we liberated?” 

Caleb sat at the table with a sigh. "We got the last of them into psychiatric care this morning. Scattered them throughout the area.”

“We haven’t figured out where the Gorlians are yet. We only got a partial download of the computers before I got locked out. By the time I hacked my way back in, they were wiped.” Gabe said, sipping at his coffee. “I figure it’s a matter of time though. We work our way through these facilities and we’ll flush him out.”

“This is really good work Gabe.” John said. “Your Daddy must be very proud of you.”

He nodded. “Yeah…proud enough to ground me here instead of letting me help.”

Ellen reached across to touch his hand. “You have to realize why.”

Gabe looked at her, the shared memory of what they saw together on the video surveillance in his eyes, and he nodded. “Yeah, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rather be out there with him.”

“He knows that.” John said, pushing the computer back to him. “But I’m glad you’re here. Sam and Dean…they need reminders of when things were…normal, for them.”

Gabe smiled, but it looked forced. “Yeah…like anything in their lives was ever normal.”

John had to concede that point. His hand slithered down to his leg, to Ellen’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “I’m just saying thank you, Gabe. For everything.”

He nodded and gathered his laptop. “I know. I should go get to work decoding those other files, see if I can figure out what they are.”

 

Dean watched Bobby leave his brother’s room, waiting until he’d closed the door of his own room before he let himself in to Sam’s. Sam was asleep, which was okay. Dean figured Sam needed it. He needed to eat too. Dean was aware that he hadn’t since the oatmeal, not really…and that had been days. 

He remembered his first few days after…after giving in, after breaking. He hadn’t been able to eat, not until Master explained that by doing that, he was damaging Master’s property and he would have to be punished. He ate after that. Whenever food was offered, without question. 

Dean stared out the window of the cabin, out at the trees that surrounded them, isolating them from the world at large. There was a part of him that felt like they were hiding. He didn’t like hiding. He’d learned that at Bobby’s house. He crossed his arms and sighed.

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. His father hadn’t given him any instruction. Sam was asleep. Dean found himself restless. He never did like to be cooped up. He shook his head at the thought. Maybe he hadn’t liked it, but he’d adjusted to it awfully well. So much so he’d never even thought about trying to escape…even when he knew the cage was unlocked. 

He hadn’t understood in those first days why that bothered Sam so much…but now maybe he did. It was a symbol. Like the collar. That he could walk into that cage voluntarily and stay there, kneel there and wait. It was evidence of his place, of his acceptance of what they had made him to be.

He sighed and opened the window for some air. The old Dean would never have waited in an unlocked cage for his brother to come and take him away. The old Dean would never hide in a junk yard while his brother was being taken away from him. 

The old Dean wouldn’t be sitting in a cabin in the woods while the people who hurt them were still out there, in the world. He knew that. He could almost see that Dean in the vague reflection in the glass of the window.

Almost.

But he wasn’t that Dean. He might not ever be that Dean again. The Dean that Sam fell in love with. The one his father understood. The one the other hunters had expected him to be. Sometimes he felt like he could pretend, but it never held for long. He could see it when Gabe looked at him…that he wasn’t strong enough, right enough…he was somehow less than the man he remembered.

“Dean.”

He turned, but Sam was still asleep, his face white and sweaty. His head tossed. “Dean.” It was a pleading sound, hurt, needy. Dean left the window and crawled up on the bed beside Sam, mirroring his position, face to face. Dean took his hand and drew it up to his chest. 

“I’m here Sam. I’m here.”

 

“Penny for your thoughts.”

John turned, leaning against the railing. Ellen smiled and handed him a glass. “Scotch. Only thing Andrew had in the cupboard. I’ll go into town in the morning for supplies.”

“Trying to get me drunk?”

She laughed. “It is what I do.”

John sipped it and nodded appreciatively. “You should go home, be with Jo. Take care of business.”

“Jo’s a big girl, and she’s handling the Roadhouse. I’m taking care of business right here.” She held up her own glass.

John drank from his glass, then met her eyes. “Yeah, why is that?”

“What? Tired of me?”

“No, you know what I mean.”

She nodded and came to lean on the railing. “I spent a long time blaming you. A long time. And hearing from you again made me realize that I’d never told you.”

“Told me what?”

She sighed. “That I forgave you…that I realized it wasn’t your fault…and that you probably still blamed yourself, so I should maybe do something about that.”

“All of that, huh?” John poured the scotch down his throat, savoring the slow heat. It was comfortable, this…thing…whatever it was becoming. Part of him was frightened by just how comfortable.

“Now I figure you got bigger things you’re blaming yourself for…and maybe I should stick around and help you realize that they aren’t your fault too.”

“You going to mother me like the boys, Ellen?”

She rose up, slow, her hair lifting softly on the light breeze. “Mother you?” She shook her head with a leisurely smile. “No…I wasn’t thinking about mothering.” Her free hand settled on his chest. Her voice was sultry, and as she moved closer he let his hand settle onto her waist. She had to stand on her toes to kiss him, tender and soft, just lips brushing over lips. “I was thinking it’s been a long time…for both of us.”

He closed his eyes and breathed in the slightly floral scent of her shampoo, letting it wash over him, letting himself feel the warmth of her in his arms, the touch of her skin on his. It had been a long time. “I liked having you in my bed, John.” Ellen whispered, her nose brushing along his chin. 

“I think it was my bed, Ellen,” he said with a warm chuckle. “But, yeah…it was nice.”

Her eyes opened, all dark and affectionate and wanting. “Come to bed with me?”

He set his glass on the railing and pulled her closer, one hand skimming through her hair, tilting her head as he leaned in to kiss her…really kiss her. She melted against him, welcoming his tongue into her mouth with her own. 

“I can’t be him,” he said softly when they parted and she nodded.

“And I’m not her.”

She took his hand and led him inside, up the stairs to the room she had stashed her things in. As the door closed, he pulled her back to him, turning them so that she was against the door. His kiss was deep, his hands tangled in her blond hair. Her hands worked up under his shirt, rubbing over skin and up, pushing the shirt with them until he had to break the kiss to let her pull it off. Her hands found his belt before he could even close in for another kiss, and he reciprocated, shoving one large hand into her jeans as soon as he had them open.

Ellen rocked on his hand as he slid it down, cupping her as his middle finger sought her center. She gasped as it found it and slid home, her eyes rolling closed. “Shirt.” John whispered and her hands fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, getting it open after a few tries and cupping the back of his head as he bent to kiss his way over the top of her bra.

His fingers wiggled and the palm of his hand pressed insistently on her clit as she tried to focus. “Bed,” she gasped, pointing over his shoulder. He backed up, without breaking contact…and she only stumbled once as his second finger entered her. “John.”

His lips left her first, then his hand and she moaned, even as he finished removing her jeans, and made quick work of his own. He kissed his way up from her toes, pausing to lick and suckle the inside of her thigh, then parting her legs and smiling up at her. 

She groaned when his tongue found her slit, licking deep and ending with a few quick laps over her clit. She squirmed and reached for his head, but he had already moved on, kissing around her navel and up. 

His cock was thick and heavy, hard and it entered her in one long, smooth stroke. “Okay?” John whispered and she nodded, pulling him down to kiss her.

He started to move, slow at first, until her legs circled him, pulling him in deeper, harder. “More…John…”

“Yeah…” She arched up into each stroke, one hand snaking between them to rub her clit in time to his thrusting, brushing long fingers against his cock as it pulled out of her. He felt her start to tremble, and pressed in harder. “That’s it…come on…” he whispered in her ear. “Let me have it.” 

Her head bent back, exposing her neck, which he took as an invitation to lick the concave little spot at the base of her throat and her quaking increased and the pressure from her legs got stronger as she groaned.

He pulled out to come himself, finishing over his hand. “Next time we’ll use a condom so you don’t have to do that.” Ellen said, her voice thick as she pulled at him, encouraging him to come lay with her. 

“Next time?”

“Oh, I’m just getting warmed up.”

 

Sam woke with a start, sitting up quickly, uncertain of where he was. Dean jumped up and away and Sam shook his head. “Its okay…I was dreaming.”

A nightmare loop of his ordeal, shooting Robert, finding Dean, his father’s face as he came to understand what had happened…and sometimes it was Bobby’s face and not Robert’s that he shot…and sometimes it was Sam inside that cage, not Dean. 

Dean watched him from the corner for a minute before he came back to the bed. “You said his name…over and over again.”

Sam frowned, not understanding. “Said whose name?”

Dean wouldn’t look at him. “Robert. Sometimes like he was hurting you. Sometimes…not.”

Sam nodded. “Its…a jumbled up mess…in my head. I can’t make it make sense.”

“You killed him.” Dean said. “I watched you do it.”

Sam’s stomach twisted. 

“You told me to stay away. You let Dad…but you told me to stay away.” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you…didn’t want him to see you.” He hadn’t been thinking clearly…he’d only known that Robert had to pay. Sam couldn’t even stand to let Dean kiss him…Dean, who he’d always wanted near him. All because of Robert. Sam breathed slowly. “I wanted to kiss you without tasting him.”

Dean nodded, but didn’t move any closer. “He was right.”

His voice was soft and Sam just looked at him for a long minute. “About what?”

“This…thing…what we do…did.” Dean glanced up at him, then away. “It’s wrong, Sam. It’s always been wrong.”

He might as well have punched Sam in the gut. “What?” Sam reached for his hand, but he pulled it away. “What?”

“It’s my fault. I’m the oldest. I should have…I should have told you no. I shouldn’t have let it happen. You were a kid.”

“No. Don’t. Dean, please, don’t do this.” Sam could just tell what was coming…Dean was going to tell him they were through. “Please. I need you.”

Dean was quiet, staring at the blanket as his hand smoothed over it. “I need you too, Sam. Doesn’t make it right.”

“Is this…did Dad—“

Dean shook his head. “No…I haven’t seen Dad since we got here. He doesn’t know what to do with me.”

“Then why? Why would you say this to me?”

He got up and moved to the window. “Because it’s true, Sam. Brothers don’t do this. Brothers don’t kiss and have sex in old junked out cars every chance they get.”

“You don’t want me anymore?”

Dean’s shoulders sagged. “Sam…it’s not that.”

He turned to look at Sam. “I…don’t know how you could want me…after everything. How you could love me, with…everything…I let them do to you.” 

“You didn’t let them—“

“I sure didn’t stop them, did I?” Dean’s voice was bitter. “And they know. I can see it in their eyes. They all know.”

Sam shivered. “Know?”

“I heard Gabe talking to Caleb about the video…security cameras. They saw. Gabe and Ellen…”

Sam felt the color drain from his face. “They saw what happened to me?”

Dean nodded. He came to sit on the bed again, reaching for Sam’s hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better brother.”

Sam wanted to reassure him that he was the best brother, but couldn’t find the words. His mind was stuck on the thought that Gabe and Ellen saw. It wasn’t bad enough that Caleb was there for the whole thing…His heart was pounding, and his chest was tight. He struggled to pull in enough air. They saw. They watched while he was beaten. While he submitted…letting them use his body like he was a damn toy, an object.

“Sam?” Dean had inched closer, his hands reaching for Sam’s face, but Sam pushed him away. 

Sam tried to get up, to get out of bed, but Dean pulled at him and the cast held him down. “Let go. I have to get out of here. I can’t breathe. Let me go!” He yanked himself away and his t-shirt ripped, sending Dean falling backwards while Sam lurched up and onto his good leg. The room was spinning, and he stumbled a few steps before he landed on the floor, scrambling away from Dean as he tried to help him.

“No! Let go!” He couldn’t open his eyes as the sensation swept over him, hands and cocks and laughter, and he swatted at them, flailing around on the floor, yelling hysterically. Then something was pressing down on him and Dean’s face swam near his…his father’s voice rumbled over him…and he dimly recognized the feeling of a sedative fingering his nervous system…until it found just the right chord and he slumped into unconsciousness.


	25. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sam circle around the subject of Sam and Dean, until John bails on the subject, leaving Sam to fend for himself...until Bobby reaches out to help. And all our Winchesters wallow in their own guilt.

Dean managed to get as far as the front porch. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he had to get out of that room, away from Sam. He didn’t know how to help him. His every touch, every word seemed to just bring him more pain, more anguish.

He sat down heavily on the step and stared out into the trees. He didn’t know where they were or how far it was from anywhere. Part of him wanted to run, to leave…to let Sam be better without needing to worry about him. 

The door behind him opened and Ellen came out, jingling keys. She stopped when she saw him. “You okay, Dean?”

He shrugged and looked up at her. “Going somewhere?”

“Into town. Gotta get some food in this place before all you boys starve.”

“Could I…come with you?”

She frowned at him a little as she came down the steps. “You think you’re ready for that?”

“I can stay in the car. I just…can’t be here right now.”

She stared at him for a minute then nodded. “Yeah, okay. Hey Gabe!” she called out. “I’m taking Dean with me. Let John know?”

“Sure.” Gabe called from the door and Dean got to his feet. He took a deep breath and tried to dress himself in the image of the old Dean…confident, strong…he didn’t quite pull it off, but Ellen smiled and he thought that maybe it was enough.

 

_Sam couldn’t bring himself to move when the door opened. He knew he should…should be on his knees…should…his eyes opened slowly and for a spilt second he thought it was Dean come for him…but as the feet came closer he knew that Dean wasn’t coming. He was nothing, no one, alone…“My poor baby,” a voice whispered. Hands ghosted down over his arm, down to the round curve of his ass. “I wish there were some other way.”_

_It was intimate, familiar…gentle and terrifying…”I want to help you. I want to take care of you.” His hands stroked over Sam’s chest, up to his face. “Why are you fighting so hard? Don’t you want it to be over?”_

_Robert. He was squatting in front of Sam, tracing softly over muscle and bruises…gently, whispering words that Sam couldn’t quite make sense of…touching him…owning him…reminding him what he was._

_“Please.” Sam whispered, “Please Robert…”_

_His kiss was soft, he tasted like beer and pretzels, and Sam’s body responded. He moaned as Robert caressed him, lips and fingers and—“_

Sam sat up, sweating, his head spinning. No. No. He was rock hard and ready to vomit. He leaned over the edge of the bed as it rolled through him, but there was nothing in his stomach to throw up and he just heaved until the feeling passed. 

He shivered, pulling the blanket up higher over him and trying to calm his breathing. “Dean?” Someone had always been in the room when he woke…but he was alone now. Alone.

He took a deep breath and tried to shake the feeling. He wasn’t alone. They were here, the people who loved him. The ones who knew. Who saw. He swallowed. Caleb. He saw it all. He knew that Sam had opened his mouth, opened his ass…said those things…that he gave himself up, surrendered…

The door opened and Sam looked up. His father came in, looking freshly showered. It reminded Sam he hadn’t had a shower since…he closed his eyes, since that morning…with Dean.

“How you feeling?” John asked.

Sam blinked away tears. “Shaky.”

John nodded. “That’s the drugs. It’ll pass.” He came to the end of the bed. “Are you in pain?”

Sam shook his head. “Not really.” His leg hurt, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. “My back itches.”

John sort of smiled. “The cuts are healing. Want me to take a look?” 

Sam shook his head. The thought of letting anyone see him just terrified him. “No…I’m fine.”

“Are you?” John’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t come closer, didn’t move, but Sam suddenly felt he was too close. He shifted a little, trying to create space. “You don’t look fine.”

“What do you want from me?” Sam said, looking away. “I mean…of course I’m not fine, Dad. I was raped. Over and over again…by more men than I could keep count of…and apparently everyone got to watch.” He bit his lip and breathed heavily, trying to control the panic. “Fuck! Its bad enough that they know…but they saw! They fucking saw!”

He hit his head against the wall behind him and forced himself to calm down. His stomach was churning again and his head was pounding. He looked up to find his father staring at him, stricken. “You…didn’t know.” Sam felt the tears and looked away. 

“Dean…he said they wouldn’t…that the first days…that you’d be…” John looked like he’d been punched in the gut. "He said beatings and sensory deprivation, that the rest came...that we had time..."

“Yeah well…we sort of pushed ma—James’s hand.” Sam said quietly. “He changed things…” He had figured his father knew everything…and now he was responsible for hurting him, for letting him know that he didn’t get there in time after all. 

“Caleb didn’t…he should have…” John turned away. He stopped at the window and turned back. “What did you mean ‘they saw’? They who?”

Sam squirmed and shook his head. “Isn’t important.”

“Tell me Sam.”

Sam didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to be responsible for his father learning that his friends had kept this from him…”Dean…said…there was a camera…that…” His voice trailed off as John nodded slowly.

“They hacked the security feed.” John wiped his face. “I didn’t ask…they didn’t say…” He looked up at Sam. It was clear his father hadn't let himself think about it, about why they'd needed Caleb in the first place. “I-I thought we found you…before…I’m sorry…Sam…I’m so sorry.”

Sam looked away. His father’s grief was too much…pressing in on him, and he felt guilty for causing it…for yet another secret ripped out into the open and left jagged and unguarded to cut into him. “I’m sorry too.” Sam said. “I know I must disappoint you. I’m not strong like Dean. I-I couldn’t hold on….I couldn’t…” He covered his face with his hands and let the tears come. “I needed him so much…”

John’s hands were on his, pulling them away, tilting his face up. “I am proud of you Sam. You have no idea how proud.” Sam quivered at the touch, but didn’t pull away. “I was proud of you before I knew. Now? I’m in awe of how strong you are son.”

Sam shook his head. He knew he wasn’t strong. He knew this was all because of him, his weakness, his need for Dean…it all came from that. “If I’d been stronger this wouldn’t have happened. It’s my fault, Dad…all my fault…”

John shushed him, his big thumb brushing over Sam’s teary cheeks. “No, Sam. It isn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself.”

“You don’t understand!” Sam pulled back, pulled away. “If I’d…If Robert hadn’t seen…me…me and Dean…” He was shaking. If he could he’d be pacing. “He wouldn’t have…blamed Dean…he wouldn’t have…” 

“Sam, we should save this for when you’re—“

“No. No. You have to know. It wasn’t Dean’s fault. It was me. I wanted it. I did it…he fought it…he…” Sam closed his eyes, remembering how Dean tried to talk them out of it, even though it was so clear he wanted it too. “You have to understand, Dad…I love him…I loved him so much…I needed him…Just…don’t blame him…okay?”

John was quiet for a long time, and when Sam looked up, John was facing away from him, his body tight, sobbing. “Dad?” He reached out to touch his father’s back and he started, standing suddenly.

“I—can’t do this Sam. I thought I could. I thought I could handle…but I can’t.” He moved to the door. “I’m sorry. I’m going to get some air.”

 

“There’s coffee.” Gabe said without looking up as John appeared in the kitchen. He was nearly into the first of the encrypted files. 

“Have you slept?”

He shook his head. “Almost in.”

John skipped the coffee and grabbed the bottle of scotch Ellen had left on the counter. “You should sleep. I’m going for a walk.”

Gabe looked up just as the screen door shut. “Sleep comes later,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the computer. He swallowed cold coffee with a grimace. Sleeping would lead to dreams anyway…and Gabe had already had enough of those. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Sam on his knees.

He shook his head and frowned at the computer. Almost…but not quite. 

 

Bobby heard John leave Sam’s room, heard the pain in his voice, but it wasn’t until he heard the heavy thud that he opened his door. Sam leaned on the door to his room, looking up and down the hallway. He spotted Bobby and dropped his gaze. 

“I—need to pee.” Sam said softly. 

Bobby nodded. “I’ll take you.”

Sam shook his head. “I can…just…where?”

“Second door across the hall.” He stepped out into the hallway while Sam sized up the distance. “Doc says you shouldn’t walk on it.”

“If someone got me some crutches I wouldn’t have to.” Sam snapped. 

“I don’t think your father’s thought of that.”

Sam looked at him, holding the wall. “Yeah. There’s a lot of stuff he doesn’t think about.” Sam teetered in the middle of the hall as he limped away from the wall. 

“Let me help you, Sam.”

“I can do it!” Sam snapped as he leaned into the wall. He hung his head. “I’m sorry, Bobby. I don’t mean…”

Bobby nodded, though Sam couldn’t see him. “I know.” He took a deep breath. “If you want, I could see if I can find a garbage bag to cover your cast, you know? So you can get cleaned up.”

Sam looked at him over his shoulder. “I think I’d like that, Bobby. Thanks.” Somehow it was easier with Bobby…though Sam didn’t want to think about why. He just worked at getting into the bathroom. He should let someone help him, but he felt so helpless about so much…this was something he would do for himself. 

By the time he was in front of the toilet, he was sweating, and the pain radiating up from his leg made him woozy. He tried to ignore it. Tried to just pee without thinking about Thomas and the bucket…or Dean and the quiet desperation that Sam just relieve himself. 

He was shaking when he reached to flush the toilet and he started when there was a knock on the door. “Sam, I found a bag.”

“Its okay, Bobby, you can come in.” Sam lowered the seat and lid and swiveled around to sit on the toilet as Bobby came in, a big black garbage bag in one hand, and a roll of duct tape in the other. He smiled and Sam relaxed a little. 

“Let’s see if we can’t fix this up.”

Bobby knelt on the floor in front of him and opened the garbage bag, lifting Sam’s injured leg and sliding the plastic up and over him. It came just above the cast and it only took him a few minutes to tape it up so that it was closed tight against Sam’s skin. “I called Ellen, she’s headed in to town to pick up some things…asked her to check for crutches or a cane or something.”

“Thanks.” Sam winced a little as a sharp pain shot up through his leg. 

“Okay, that should do you. You okay to stand in the shower?”

Sam looked at the tub, then back at Bobby. “I…honestly, I don’t know.”

Bobby nodded, regarding Sam for a minute before he stood. “Wait here a minute.” He left the bathroom and came back with a couple of towels. He handed one to Sam. “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to turn my back. You get out of the boxers and t-shirt and wrap up in that. I’ll help you into the shower, and once you’re in, you can hand me the towel. I’ll come back in a few minutes and hand you a new one, and help you out, okay?”

Sam nodded, amazed a little that Bobby understood. He was, maybe, the only person there who hadn’t seen Sam at his weakest…at the point of his lowest moment. Bobby turned around and started the water while Sam wiggled out of his boxers and shirt, then pulled himself to standing, wrapping the towel around him. “Okay.” Bobby turned, keeping his eyes as averted as he could, supporting Sam up and into the tub. 

When Sam had found his footing and the curtain was closed, he handed out the towel. “I’ll be in the hall, Sam. Just call.”

The water felt good, hot and clean and Sam stood under it for a long time, just letting it flow over him. Bobby was a good man. It still boggled his mind that Bobby had known about him and Dean…all these years, and he never said anything. 

Sam shook his head under the water, holding the wall with one hand while he pulled the other through his wet hair. It really showed the differences between Bobby and his father. His good leg was tired from holding him. He turned off the water and called for Bobby. 

A few minutes later, Bobby was helping him back into bed. “Thank you…Bobby. I don’t know how…to begin to thank you.”

Bobby smiled, but it was strained. “You get better. That’s all I need. I love you boys like…” His voice trailed off and he looked away. “I’ll see about getting you something to eat.”

Sam made face, but it was lost behind a yawn. “Not hungry…later…sleep.”

Bobby nodded and tucked the blankets up around him. “I’ll check in later.”

Sam nodded, but he was already nearly asleep. Bobby pressed a kiss to his forehead and left him to sleep.

 

“You’re an ass.” Bobby said unceremoniously as he found John an hour later. 

John raised the nearly empty bottle in salute. “Yes, I am.”

“A drunk ass.” Bobby amended as he sat down beside him on the fallen log.

“That too.” John tipped the bottle up, emptying the last of it into his mouth.

“Your sons need you, and you’re out here feeling sorry for yourself.”

“They don’t need me.” John said, dropping the bottle to the mossy ground. “That much is becoming obvious.”

“Bull shit.”

“Excuse me?”

Bobby sighed and crossed his arms. “You’re their Daddy. They need you.”

John snorted and lurched to his feet. “No offense, Bobby, but it isn’t any of your goddamn business.”

“Yes, it is my business. You made it my business, every time you dumped them on my doorstep, every time you abandoned them with me so you could chase that damn demon.”

John turned. “Don’t even try to paint yourself as the better father…not after it was your son—“ 

Bobby stood. “Oh no you don’t, John Winchester. I know what my son was. I know. And I wasn’t the world’s best father…but damn it John…Sam is falling apart in there. He needs his father to understand…to love him and hold him. He needs you to forgive him.”

“Forgive?” John chuckled and stumbled a little ways away. “Forgive him? For what? Fucking his brother?”

“That would be a good start.” Bobby said. “Look…I realize it came as a surprise. I realize that it isn’t something you want to know. But it is what it is. Those two boys…they love each other like nothing I’ve ever seen, John.”

John stared at him. “You knew.” It wasn’t a question. John’s face burned red. “You never said anything.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Would you have believed me? You see what you want to see John. Open your fucking eyes and see what’s really going on around you.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Yeah, I know. But my boy’s dead, John. There ain’t nothing I can do to fix it. Your boys are still alive. And they need their daddy. Sober up and get your ass back to the cabin before Ellen gets back. She won’t be as soft on you.”

 

The town was small, a couple of bars, a post office, grocery store. Ellen had been in the grocery store for almost a half hour. Dean sat on the trunk of the car, watching some kids play in the park in the town square. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling of the sun on his skin. Some part of him still wanted to run, to leave Sam to heal.

The open air wasn’t as distressful as it had been once. It reminded him of before…of the times when he and Sam had waited in some small town while their dad hunted…pretending to be normal…sitting outside of schools waiting for Sammy to come out so they could go home. Sam would smile as their eyes met and Dean would melt inside…because Sam was everything…and nothing mattered as long as Sam was there. 

“You ready?” Ellen asked as she stopped beside the car. He looked at her and nodded slowly.

“I guess.”

“We could stay a bit, if you needed to.”

He shook his head. “I need to be sure Sam’s okay.” More than the need to run, he needed Sam.

She nodded. “Help me load this stuff up?”

He slid off the car and helped load the bags of groceries into the car. Now that he’d been away, he was anxious to get back. 

Ellen’s presence was soothing, and he wondered idly why he’d never met her before now. It was obvious she and his father were close. He could see it in how they looked at one another, how they touched. 

Dean shifted uncomfortably as they pulled out onto the road. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, honey.”

“Sam…I heard Gabe say…you saw. You saw him…in the cage.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, I’m afraid I did.”

Dean licked his lips. “And…Robert? You saw…when…he was there?”

“Dean…what happened in that cage…it wasn’t…it was awful and Sam and Caleb are going to carry it with them for a long time.”

“Did Robert…hurt him?” Dean looked out the window. It would be easier if had…but the sounds Sam made when he was dreaming didn’t sound like hurt. 

“Robert is gone, Dean. He’s dead. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“I know…I just…I should have…you know, done it. Shouldn’t have let Sam.”

“You Winchester boys and your blame. Can’t a one of you stand to not feel guilty, can you?”

Dean was quiet then, withdrawing into himself. It wasn’t Sam’s fault…and Dean would find a way to take care of him…even if Sam couldn’t stand for him to be in the same room…even if Dean couldn’t touch him…even if Dean knew that he shouldn’t want to touch him. “I keep hurting him.” Dean said quietly just as they pulled in to the cabin.

She looked at him, reaching out to stroke his cheek. “No, honey…he’s hurt plenty, but it isn’t you that’s hurting him. It’s you he needs…you and your daddy.”

“You think so?” Dean asked almost breathlessly.

“Tell you what? Help me take this stuff inside and I’ll make you some lunch. You can take it up to Sam.”

“I’d like that. He really needs to eat.”

 

“Sam?” Dean pushed open the door and moved to set the tray on the table near the window. Sam stirred on the bed, opening one eye then both. “I brought some lunch.”

Sam grimaced and turned a little. “Not hungry.”

Dean came to the bed, but didn’t touch. “Sam, please…you need to eat. It’s been days.”

“Not hungry.” Sam said again and Dean stomped his foot on the floor. 

“Damn it Sam! I said eat.” Dean said with a fierceness he hadn’t intended. 

Sam sat up, looking up at him. “Eat or I’ll go get Ellen and she’ll make you eat.” Dean said. “Just a little, okay?” He brought the bowl of soup to the bed. “For me?”

Sam nodded slowly, taking the bowl. Dean was careful not to let them touch as he passed the bowl. “Stay with me?” Sam asked as Dean went to the door. 

Dean closed his eyes. “Sam…”

“It’s okay…I don’t mean…just…be with me. I don’t like it alone.”

_Nothing. No one. Alone._

It hung in the air between them. “Please Dean?”

Dean sighed and let his forehead rest against the door for a moment. “If I stay, will you eat it?”

Sam’s voice was small as he said “I’ll try.” 

Dean turned back to look at him, trying to look stern. “You eat it all, and I’ll stay until it’s gone.”

Sam lifted the spoon to his mouth. “Just stay…anything if you’ll just stay.”

He nodded and moved back to the side of the bed, pulling the chair out of the corner to sit on while Sam ate. This is what big brothers do…they take care of their baby brothers. He just had to remember how. How to be a big brother…


	26. Working On It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellen puts John in his place, Sam makes Dean understand, and in turn, Dean helps John begin to understand...in short, everyone is working on getting better...

“You think they’re tall enough?” Caleb asked, after he’d adjusted the old wooden crutches he’d found in the shed to their highest level.

“They’ll have be, won’t they?” Ellen said as she finished clearing the table of the lunch dishes. “There wasn’t anything in town.”

Bobby nodded. “They look good. Maybe you should take them up to Sam, John. See if that cheers him up.”

John stirred from his spot in the corner, his eyes red rimmed. “Cheers him up?” His voice was bitter, but he stood and took the crutches from Caleb. “You should have told me.”

“It wasn’t my place, and you know it.” Caleb responded. “I thought you’d understand when I said that they’d done unspeakable things.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, is that what your moping is about?” Ellen asked, turning around. “John Winchester you had better get your act together and your head out of your ass.”

“You aren’t any better. You knew too.” 

“Yeah I did. And so did any body else who was fucking paying attention.” Ellen said, hands on her hips. “Hell, John, even Dean knew. Why the hell do you think he went running in there to save him?”

John glowered down at her, but she didn’t back off. “Your boys have been through hell. They’re torn up and feeling alone and you’re so busy with how it makes you feel that you’ve forgotten one important thing here, John.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Of the three of you damn Winchester men, you’re the only one who hasn’t been fucked by strange men while being told that you are nothing.” 

The room was silent.

No one moved, until Gabe looked up bleary eyed from his laptop. “Um…guys…I think…I think I found them.”

 

Sam sipped at the soup slowly. He really wasn’t hungry, despite how long it had been since he’d eaten…but Dean would stay as long as he was eating. So Sam ate slowly. Swallowing and pausing between spoonfuls because his stomach really wasn’t happy with the intrusion.

But keeping him there was only part of the battle. Sam needed to reach him, make him understand. He wanted to feel Dean’s hand on his. Sam’s eyes darted up to Dean’s. He was still watching, staring. 

There were raised voices and Dean got up to open the door, then came back, looking a little agitated. “They’re arguing about me.” Sam said into the silence. “About what to do with me.”

Dean shook his head. “No. Ellen’s telling Dad he’s an ass.”

Sam smirked and forced another spoonful of soup into his mouth. Then Dean cocked his head. “Why would they be arguing about what to do with you?”

Sam set the soup down on the nightstand and shifted his position on the pillows. “I—I told Dad the truth, Dean.”

Dean leaned in closer. “What truth?”

“About you and me…how it wasn’t your fault, isn’t your fault. I told him I started it. That I wanted you…that I still want you.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was a growl as he stood up and paced away. 

“I told him that I loved you…that I need you.” Dean’s back was to him and Sam felt frustration building. “Look at me, please Dean?”

Dean twitched, glancing over his shoulder before turning around. “I…I don’t know how to do this if you aren’t here with me.” Sam said softly. “I can function, pretend, deal with it all…if you’re with me, Dean. I look at you and know I can…but when you left me alone…when I think that you might not ever want me…I’d rather die.”

Dean’s eyes closed. “Sam…please don’t say that.”

“It would be easier…then you and Dad could…you know…move on.” Sam hadn’t meant to go there, to take it to that level, but he knew it was true. A part of him really would welcome a heavy shot of something cold that leeched into his body and dragged him down into the dark forever.

“Sam.” Dean had come closer. “Please.”

Sam shook his head, wiping away the tears. “No…I can’t…not alone…”

“You aren’t alone.”

“I will be. Dad couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with me after I told him. You…you won’t even look at me, except to make sure I’m eating. The only one here even trying to help me is Bobby…and how long do you think it’ll be before he remembers that I killed his goddamn son?”

Sam was shaking now, and Dean was right there, next to the bed. His hand was on Sam’s head, his fingers raking through his hair, pulling him against his body. “Sam…please…calm down. Please.”

“Don’t leave me Dean…I love you. I need you. Please don’t leave me.”

“Shh…it’s okay Sammy, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, okay? Please. Settle down before you make yourself sick.”

Sam didn’t calm down and didn’t stop the endless litany of _don’t leave me-please-love you-need you_ until Dean slid down onto the bed, awkwardly moving so that he could pull Sam closer, almost into his lap.

Dean kissed the top of his head, running hands down his arms until Sam’s voice tapered off. “I don’t know how to help you, Sammy.” Dean whispered across his hair, though he thought Sam might have gone to sleep. “I’m here…I’m here…but I don’t know what’s right…don’t know how to take care of you…don’t know how to make it okay again.”

He held Sam to him, his eyes closed. “I want you so much it hurts. Couldn’t breathe when they took you away.”

 

“What do you mean?” John said, turning to Gabe.

The younger man was practically vibrating in his seat. He gestured at the computer. “The encrypted files. I’m in. I got in.”

“And?”

“And…it’s here…not everything…but its aliases and financial holdings…the Gorlians aren’t even the Gorlians. There’s half a dozen names here, for each of them. They probably aren’t even brothers.”

Gabe yawned, despite his excitement, and reached for his coffee, which Ellen promptly took away from him. “You broke the files, now you go to bed.”

“But I—“

Ellen shook her head. “I’ll call your Daddy if I have to.”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “I won’t sleep. It’s easier if I—“

“We can fix the sleeping problem.” Ellen said quietly, meeting his gaze and holding it. He held out for a minute, before his shoulders sagged.

“Fine.”

“Fine.” Ellen echoed. “Caleb? Why don’t you see young Gabe here gets a good dose of something to help him sleep? I don’t want to see him before tomorrow morning.”

When Caleb and Gabe were gone, Ellen turned to John. “You too.”

“I don’t need to sleep.” John said, sliding into Gabe’s vacant seat.

“No, but you do have other needs.” She took the computer away from him. “Or rather, your boys do.”

“Ellen.” John’s voice was dark, dangerous, but Ellen didn’t back down.

“Take the crutches to Sam. Talk to your boys. Better yet, listen to them. Be with them. And stop being such an ass.”

John looked up at her, then at Bobby who’d been quiet through the whole exchange. “Go on, John. Ellen and I will go through whatever Gabe found.”

 

Dean managed to get them shifted around so that he was stretched out next to Sam, with Sam still gathered in his arms, his head on Dean’s chest. Sam was mostly asleep, still murmuring from time to time. Dean kept his hands to the safe places, but he was so bruised, in so many places. He wondered if his beatings had been as brutal…probably, they were just a lifetime ago…he didn’t remember.

He pressed kisses into Sam’s forehead and felt him shift a little deeper in his sleep. Sam’s words had echoed inside him, awakening that ache from early on in his captivity, that fear he really was what they wanted him to believe he was, that he was unwanted, unloved, given away. _Nothing. No one. Alone._

He’d woke up screaming for Sam more nights than he could count. Always Sam. Only Sam. He’d held on through the brutality because he had held to the idea of Sam. And it had been that idea, it had been Sam that had broken through it all. 

The door opened and Dean looked up, raising a finger to his lips when his father came in, carrying crutches. John nodded and set the crutches in a corner, before pulling a chair around to Dean’s side of the bed. “Is he okay?” John asked softly.

Dean sighed. “I don’t know. He was pretty worked up.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I wasn’t exactly my most supportive when I saw him last.” John admitted, leaning over to look at the bruising around Sam’s nose and eyes.

“Yeah, I heard.” 

“This is hard for me, Dean. I’m trying.”

“I know. But of all of us Dad? This is hardest for him.”

John looked at him with an odd expression and Dean shook his head. “I know I told you that they have a…schedule…a plan for how they do this thing, how they break us. I didn’t count on it being personal…I didn’t count on them changing it.” He brushed a finger over Sam’s hand where it lay on his stomach. “It took them months to push me hard enough to crack. It was plenty bad for me…don’t get me wrong.” His eyes met his father’s…holding them to make sure he understood. They couldn’t keep doing this. It was time to stop protecting him. 

“Sam endured those months all crammed into those few days…and it was worse then that…” Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. “Master made him responsible for Caleb, you know? To break him that much faster. They punished Caleb for every time Sam defied them. He had to…let them touch him, or Caleb would get hit. Made him repeat the words…then, it wasn’t enough to let them do it, he had to…respond.”

John stirred. “Maybe we should talk about this in my room, let him sleep?”

Dean shook his head. “No. I’m not leaving him alone.”

“We’d only be down the hall.”

Dean sighed. “You don’t understand.”

John’s hand closed on his. “I’m trying to Dean. I want to.”

“The first rule.” Dean breathed. “Nothing, no one, alone. They drill it into you. Right from the start. They tell you every time they touch you. They pipe it into the cage day and night…make you repeat it. Over and over.”

“Until you can’t help but believe it.” John said, some understanding dawning in his eyes.

Dean nodded, the hand behind Sam’s head playing through his hair. “Alone is the easiest one to fix. I can be here, so he isn’t alone.” He kissed Sam’s head again, leaning against him.

His father’s hand squeezed his and when he looked up there were tears in his eyes. “Would it be okay with you, if I stayed too?”

Dean nodded slowly. “I think he’d like that.”

 

Caleb found himself sitting by the window in Gabe’s room, listening to the younger boy rattle on about some technology that he was hoping to adapt to the hunt while they waited for the pill to kick in. When it suddenly got quiet, he thought it had, but turned to find Gabe sitting up, staring at the wall, his face pale. “Gabe?”

“What do I do, Caleb?”

Caleb stood up and crossed the room. “About what, Gabe?”

He turned frightened blue eyes to Caleb. “How do you see…what I saw and ever trust anyone ever? How can I look Sam in the eye ever again?”

“I don’t know, Gabe.” Caleb ran a hand over his face. “What you saw was pretty terrible…”

“It could have been me.” Gabe said, stifling a yawn. “I mean…that’s why my father wants me here, right? I’m the right age…I’m the kind of person…”

Caleb offered him a brief smile. “You know you’re safe here, right?”

Gabe was too far gone on the drug to take offense and just nodded. “Good. Sleep. In the morning, you can help us figure out what comes next with all that information you found.”

 

There was something comforting about the way Sam was half draped over him, and his father’s hand covered his…something warm and familiar. Dean drifted on the feeling as the afternoon shadows stretched across the room. Sam tensed against him, his hand fisting in the blanket. He whimpered, then cringed, pulling away from Dean.

He reached for Sam, pulling his hand free of his father’s and startling him from his sleep. His hands closed over Sam’s face, holding him so he wouldn’t throw himself from the bed and hurt the leg. “Sam? Come on Sammy. Wake up.”

Sam’s eyes blinked open, staring wildly at Dean as he tried to focus. “Dean?”

“Yeah, baby, I’m right here.”

“You…left me…you…I dreamed…” He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I dreamed you took me…left me there…gave me to him…”

Dean kissed away the tears on his cheeks. “Never. You’re mine, Sammy. Mine.”

Behind him John got up, moving away, over to the window. Sam’s eyes tracked him, but Dean pulled Sam’s face back to his. “Mine, right Sammy?”

Sam was still breathing heavily, his eyes flashing to John and back again, but he nodded. “If you still want me, Dean. After everything…after…” He dropped his eyes, but Dean’s finger caught on his chin, bringing his face up.

“Always.” His kiss was chaste, soft, lips brushing lightly over lips.

John cleared his throat and Sam ducked his head, pressing his face to Dean’s shoulder. “Dad?” Dean watched John stiffen, then exhale visibly before he turned.

John nodded and came to the end of the bed. “Yeah, I’m right here, Dean.”

“See Sam? We’re all here. Together.”

Sam nodded but didn’t lift his head.

“Dad brought you some crutches. We could get you up...maybe outside?”

“Bobby’s cooking dinner. You could come downstairs.”

Sam stiffened a little and pulled away from Dean. “Maybe the three of us could have dinner alone…on the porch.” John said slowly.

Sam mumbled something John couldn’t hear and Dean nodded. “Yeah, okay. Dad, can you get the pair of sweats Ellen brought up earlier? She cut out the leg for the cast.” Dean pointed with his chin, his hands still occupied with Sam. “He needs to go to the bathroom.”

Sam didn’t fight as John held the pants for him to get into and pulled them up over Sam’s boxer’s. Then John brought him the crutches. “It’s been a while, do you remember?”

Sam nodded and let John help him up, settling the crutches under his arms. “Little short.”

“Only cause you’re a sasquatch.” Dean said, getting up behind him.

“I can do it myself.” Sam growled. 

“No one’s saying you can’t.” John said, stepping away.

“We’ll be here when you’re done, okay Sam?” Dean sighed heavily once Sam was gone, watching his father watch Sam. “He okay?”

John nodded, looking back at Dean when the door closed across the hall. “Dean—“

He held up his hand. “I’m not leaving him.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

Dean smiled and nodded. “You were about to. It makes you uncomfortable. It makes me…” He sighed. How could he quantify it? When just that afternoon he’d been ready and willing to actually do it, leave Sam. Never touch him again. “I’m not leaving him.”

The bathroom door opened and Sam emerged, moving slowly on the crutches. Sam looked surly as he paused in the hall. “You hungry?” John asked as he left the room.

“Not really.” Sam answered.

“Sam.” Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah…okay.” Sam muttered. “You guys go ahead. I’ll be slow.”

John went down first, clearing the path out to the porch before disappearing into the kitchen. He kissed Ellen on the cheek and started pulling plates out of the cupboard. Bobby came in the back door with burgers on a plate, fresh from the grill. 

“The boys and I are going to have dinner on the porch.” John said, not looking up as he prepared plates. 

“You okay, John?” Ellen asked, running a hand down his back.

“I believe you told me it wasn’t about me.” John responded. He stopped when she pulled away and shook his head. “I’m sorry. We’re…working on it.”

 

“You’re a good influence on him.” Bobby said, watching through a window with Ellen as John sat with Sam and Dean.

“I just nudge.” Ellen said with a smile.

“Yeah, okay. Nudge Caleb next?”

She turned to squint at him. “Yeah?”

“He’s…wound tight…for Caleb.”

“I was more worried about you.”

“Me?” Bobby shook his head, turning back to doing the dishes. “I’m okay.”

“No. You aren’t. But that’s okay. No one expects you to be.”

They were quiet for a minute. “We all grieve our own way, Bobby. And that’s okay. Just so long as we grieve.” Ellen said softly, touching his shoulder. “Remember that.”

 

Sam toyed with the food on his plate, picking at it just enough to keep Dean from getting upset. Things had been quiet, but the night air was nice. “You’re not eating.” Dean whispered and Sam forced a smile.

“I’m…working on it.” He picked up a potato chip as if to emphasize and put it in his mouth. “What?” he asked his father who looked like he had a question.

He shook his head. “I…you used to inhale food. I would think you’d be starving…after…everything.”

Sam shrugged. “Just not hungry.”

Dean’s hand settled over his and they both looked at it, then up at their father, and pulled apart. “It’s a defensive reaction.” Dean said after a few minutes. “Comes after they starve you. Then they give you disgusting food and force you to eat. Sam didn’t quite get to that, but…the defense is the same.”

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was shaky. “I’m just not hungry.”

“I know.” Dean sighed and sat back in his seat. “Dad has to know, everything. No more secrets.”

Sam looked at his brother like he was crazy. “No. He doesn’t.”

“I am still sitting right here.” John said, brushing crumbs from his hands. 

“Sam...”

“Dean.”

“Boys.” John stood, reaching for plates. “Enough. It’s been a long day. I think maybe we should all get some sleep before we do anymore sharing.”

Dean reached out for Sam’s plate and put it in front of him again. “He’s not done.”

“Yes, I am.” Sam countered.

“You need to eat.”

Sam sighed. “I know.”

“We’ll be in soon.” Dean said to their father who was wavering. Finally, John nodded and walked away. “Just a few bites. For me.”

Sam nodded and reached for his burger, picking off the bun and cheese to nibble on the meat. “’S cold.” He sounded like a petulant child.

Dean chuckled. “Cause you spent all this time pretending to eat.”

“You can go inside, you know? I’ll be fine.”

Dean shook his head and took Sam’s hand. “No. Not leaving you alone.” He lifted the hand and softly kissed the tips of each finger. “Not leaving you.” He turned the hand over and kissed the palm gently. He rubbed his hand over the calloused skin, then set something on it. “Yours. Always, from that day you kissed me for the first time, Sammy…”

He pulled his hand away and Sam stared at the ring. “Dean?”

“Dad gave it to me…when I was lost and couldn’t figure out where I belonged. It told me I belonged to him. And I do. But I belong to you too…and you seem so lost. I thought that maybe…if you wore it, it would remind you that you’re mine…and I’m yours.”

Sam’s finger turned the ring so that the “W” was facing him. “Always.” Sam whispered, blinking back tears.

“Always.” Dean echoed.

“Put it on for me?” Sam asked almost breathlessly and Dean lifted the ring, settling it onto Sam’s ring finger.

“Your hands are so big.” Dean said with a grin. His kiss was tender, across Sam’s lips as he stood, but before he could pull away, one of those big hands was catching him on the shoulder, pulling him back. Sam’s lips parted, inviting Dean’s tongue to dance and after only the slightest hesitation, Dean let it slip across their lips.

“’M tired.” Sam murmured as they separated and Dean nodded.

“Let’s get you back to bed, Sasquatch.”

Dean helped him up and onto his crutches. “But tomorrow you’re eating three meals, even if I have to sit on you.”


	27. Effort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sam and Dean work toward understanding, Gabe and Ellen and Bobby labor alone.

Ellen stayed in the kitchen after Bobby left her, after Dean helped Sam up the stairs, after John hovered and waited and ended up following his boys. She listened to the sounds of the old cabin and the men in it settling in for the night, though it was barely after 8, and she waited a little longer.

Nodding to herself, Ellen opened a bottle of beer and sat down at the kitchen table with the computer and the cordless phone. She drank half the beer before moving the computer in front of her and opening it up. With a sigh, she picked up the phone and dialed. 

“Harvelle’s Roadhouse.”

“Jo, it’s your mother.” She’d never admit to the tears in the corner’s of her eyes from just the sound of her daughter’s voice, from just knowing she was safe and sound and not a part of the fucked up mess that had enveloped Ellen when she’d answered John Winchester’s voice mail. She listened through talk of business and hunters who’d been through and answered questions about her own whereabouts and activities as vaguely as she could. Then, turned the conversation to her other reason for calling. “Honey, I need to talk to Ash.” She waited a while as Jo went in search of him and when he picked up, she was quick with, “Listen; don’t say anything that Jo might pick up on.”

“She’s half way cross the bar.”

“Just do what I say.”

“Yes ma’am,” he responded with sarcasm dripping into the phone.

“I need you to track someone down for me.” She steadied herself with a deep breath and looked at the list of names on the computer in front of her. “A couple of someones, but if I’m right…all three names will lead you to a single person.”

“Okay, lay it on me.”

“Harvey Bedell, Michael Harvard and Marvin Harvest.”

“Full work up, or just public records?”

“Everything, Ash. Anything and everything. And no one but me, okay. It’s personal.”

Her hands shook as she hung up the phone and closed the computer down. The possibility burned in her stomach…but she wouldn’t say until she knew. Couldn’t…She tossed off the rest of her beer and headed for the stairs to make the rounds and make sure the most damaged of her boys were getting the sleep they needed.

 

John stood near the window, staring out at the wind whipped trees. There was a storm moving in…the sky darker than midnight with clouds. Sam slept restlessly on the bed. Dean slept a little quieter, one hand against Sam’s arm. It was the only part of Sam’s body that didn’t fidget as he dreamed.

He tried to look at them objectively, as two men, but they were his boys, and always would be. Seeing them together… _together_ he had seen it, the thing that kept Bobby from telling him, the absolute love between them…Dean looked at Sam like John had often found himself looking at Mary.

John swallowed and let his eyes sweep over them. It was a lot they were asking him to handle. This, in the light of the rest…it shouldn’t matter. He knew that. 

Sam’s dreaming was getting more intense and Dean rolled toward him, his arm slipping up over Sam and drawing him closer. John could hear whispers, soft sounds as Dean kissed over Sam’s face. Sam settled, turning still closer to Dean as he quieted. Sam pulled Dean’s hand in close to his chest and John smiled. It was something he’d done as a kid when he was afraid, when he didn’t want to sleep alone.

He felt eyes and looked up to find Dean looking at him. “You okay, Dad?”

John nodded stiffly. “Yeah, Dean. I’m okay. Go back to sleep. I’ll be here.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

John nodded slowly and returned to the armchair by the bed. “Yeah, Dean. I do.” He sat down and ran a hand slowly over Dean’s arm. “For the same reason that you aren’t leaving him.” 

Dean’s eyes were dark. He didn’t move, just looked up at John. “You need to know you’re not alone too.” John said softly. “That I’m never leaving you. That I never gave you away.” His voice broke a little and he had to swallow to keep the emotion at bay. 

Dean nodded slowly, turning enough that he could reach a hand for John’s, squeezing it before kissing it lightly. “Thank you.” His face was unreadable in the gloom, but John figured that hid his as well. He sat back in the chair and settled in to doze, his feet on the bed, his arms crossed over his chest.

 

Outside the window the wind howled, and rain had started pouring. If he’d been asleep, the thunder might have startled him awake, but Bobby hadn’t been sleeping. He’d been sitting alone in the tiny bedroom he’d claimed for his own, alone, staring at his hands.

They never felt clean anymore, not since he’d held his son’s head in his hands and cleaned his blood and bits of flesh from the hotel floor. He scrubbed them over and over, until they were chapped and raw, but he could still feel the sticky residue clinging to him, like the guilt that clung to his soul.

Guilt.

He’d stood there and let Sam do it…and he wasn’t sure what felt worse, that Bobby hadn’t already done it, or that he’d needed to at all. He wanted a drink, but John had finished off the scotch and Ellen had wisely not bought any real alcohol to replace it…so instead, he was left to wallow in his pain without anything to take his mind off of it.

He lifted the small picture from his wallet. Robert was 16, Dean 11 and Sammy only 7. They were flushed and beautiful in their youth. Robert looked more like his mother then, his dark hair a little curly where it was long in the back. He had his arms around Sam, smiling. 

It hadn’t started then, not what it became. Sam was just a kid. But then, Bobby had thought that about Robert at the time too. Dean had been older at 11, more mature, than Robert at 16. He’d always chalked it up to his mother’s influence, always so over protective.

He couldn’t make his mind see this smiling 16 year old boy as the man he’d left tied to a chair for Sam to find. They’d left him with Caleb. So they could eat and regroup before they pushed him for the last bits of information. Then, Dean was hysterical and Sam was gone and he and John had raced for the room.

_“No…it didn’t happen to them.” Sam’s voice reached them as they neared the door. “It happened to Dean and to me. My fault, my responsibility.”_

_Sam was leaning in close to Robert’s face. Bobby could see them through the window, vague shadowy figures, but Sam’s voice came through clear as anything. “You raped me, you sick fuck…and you can dress it up all pretty in your head thinking that you love me…but the truth is that you couldn’t stand that I loved Dean…I will always love Dean…always.”_

_The door finally opened and Sam glanced over his shoulder briefly. Robert lifted his head, pressing into the gun, his eyes challenging, daring._

_“Sam?” Dean was the first to find his voice, and Bobby could see Sam was starting to shake. He wanted to reach out and take the gun, take the responsibility, but he couldn’t move. Robert’s eyes flicked to his, but it wasn’t a request for help he saw in them. It wasn’t even fear._

_“Stay away Dean.” Sam adjusted his grip and shifted his weight, and Bobby managed a step closer. “You did this.” Sam whispered to Robert. John was behind Sam now, his hands were on Sam’s shoulders. “You did this, Robert.”_

_The shot rang out, the gun fell to the floor and Sam collapsed, barely caught by his father’s arms. “Oh god…I shot him…I shot him.” Sam held onto his father, twisting to look up at Bobby who stood stunned beside John, staring at the hole in his son’s face, at the disbelief in his remaining eye as he died. “Bobby…oh god…I’m sorry…I’m…oh god.”_

_Bobby dragged his eyes to where John and Sam lay in a tangle on the floor “He did it…he did this to us.” Sam was babbling, shaking. Bobby couldn’t think beyond needing to make it okay. He was on his knees, pulling Sam up into his arms and holding on to him, his hands soothing over Sam’s hair._

_“It’s okay, Son. It’s okay.” He couldn’t cry, couldn’t breathe…he just held Sam with John while Caleb went off to get a sedative._

But it wasn’t okay, and Bobby couldn’t make it okay, no matter how he tried. 

There was so much blood. He’d hauled the body out into the woods and burned it, salted the ash and buried it. All he had left of his boy were the scattered memories and a few pictures. He stared at the picture, but his eye kept landing on Sam rather than Robert and when Bobby finally did let the tears come, it wasn’t his son he was crying for.

 

Gabe was awake before the first light, chased out of sleep by dreams that alternately terrified him and aroused him…and the latter was more frightening than the former. He sat up and reached for his cock, so hard it hurt, and groaned. 

It was wrong. So may kinds of wrong. 

He got up and reached for his laptop, before remembering that Ellen had taken it away from him. He couldn’t distract himself. Fine. He’d just deal. He could just take care of it. There was lube in his bag.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and slicked up, calling up an image of a girl he’d met before he’d gotten the call from his father. Pretty, petite, blonde…pretty much the anti-thesis of everything that had gotten him in this state to begin with. She was bold and flirtatious and her mouth on him had been wondrous. He closed his eyes and stroked over his cock. He couldn’t remember her name…but that didn’t matter.

He was trying to be quick about it, but as hard as he was it just wasn’t happening. The dream flashed through him and he flushed, groaned. Sam on his knees. Willing, open. 

Gabe tried to turn away from it, but couldn’t escape the exhilaration as Sam opened his mouth…and then it was Gabe standing over Sam, filling his mouth filled with cock, looking down at his slave. He moaned as he came, shaking and ashamed. 

He found his dirty shirt from the day before and cleaned himself up. This had to stop. Sam was a good friend, and what happened to him was horrendous, not something to fantasize about. He wasn’t even gay…he didn’t think. 

He frowned and paced around the bed. He was 18, and had never really had sexual thoughts about a man…until now. Sure, his experience was limited, because he was 18 and a geek, but he was pretty sure he would have known by now. 

If he was logical about it, this was only a reaction to the situation. Nothing more. He could handle it. If Sam and Dean could handle what had happened to them, Gabe could handle this.

 

Dean woke with one arm numb and tingly as it lay under Sam’s head. He moved it carefully, watching as Sam rolled a little, but didn’t wake up. Beside the bed, his father was asleep in the chair, his feet on the bed near Dean’s hip. 

He shouldn’t have let him sleep in the chair. Dean frowned. He couldn’t have stopped him of course, he was…Dean took a deep breath. He was their father. Not master. Not owner. Still, John Winchester wouldn’t have taken orders from Dean. Especially not when Dean didn’t have a clue what he was doing.

His head hurt from the effort. The work to be…strong, to be Dean; big brother, son, master, slave, lover…He rubbed at his temples and hated himself for thinking that it was simpler with Master James. He always knew what he was, what he was supposed to do, how to behave. No one relied on him to be anything more or less than that. No one expected him to make decisions or understand anything but what he was told to do.

Talking to his father was exhausting. There was so much that he just didn’t understand, so much that a master should know. He grimaced, reminding himself again that John was Father, not Master. Master was dead.

Dean closed his eyes. Master was dead. It repeated in his brain with echoes of _Punish_ and _Nothing. No One. Alone._. He’d killed him. For Sam. He’d been ready to die, if it meant Sam would get away. 

They were trapped in that bedroom. Trapped and waiting. Master knew he would die…never dreamed that Dean would be the one to do it. 

_“Ever had someone shove something up **your** ass, Master?” _

The rage had fueled him, moved him. Dean’s stomach churned as he re-lived the moment, the way the knife had sliced up and into him…the sickening satisfaction of feeling the blood pour out of him. 

“Dean?”

He looked up at his father, blinking as he realized he had tears in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah…just…remembering.”

John nodded and leaned forward, taking his feet off the bed. “Remembering what?”

Dean sat up, swinging his feet to the floor. “I killed him.” He said it softly, looking at his hands. “Master. I killed him.”

John nodded, taking his hands and holding them. “Yes, you did.”

“For Sam.” Dean said. “I couldn’t have done it for me. I was nothing. I was no one. But I wasn’t alone anymore…I had Sam…and I couldn’t let him turn Sam into what I was.”

“I am very proud of you.”

Dean exhaled slowly. “It’s confusing.” He was trying to sort it out in his head, and glanced up to see his father waiting for him to go on. He licked his lips. “Never hurt Master.” His voice was flat, without emotion, but wavered as he continued. “Rules. And punishment for breaking them. I understand them. They may not be…right. But I know them.” He took a deep breath, concentrating on articulating the battle inside him. “Not just… _his_ rules. Hunters don’t kill people. Kill evil…demons.” 

“Dean, James **was** evil.”

Dean nodded, his eyes still riveted on their hands. “I know. But he was human. And, like it or not, I spent months learning that he was…everything. I couldn’t eat or drink or relieve myself without his permission. If he chose, he could kill me…or worse. And I…” His eyes closed again. “I killed him. I broke the rules. All of the rules.”

 _Punish_. It echoed through him, crashing around inside until he pulled his hands free and held them to his head. He pressed his wrists to his ears, his hands around his neck. He missed the surety of the collar…of belonging…of knowing. 

John reached for him, strong hands on Dean’s arms, not pulling, just touching. After a few minutes, Dean’s eyes opened again and John could have fallen apart at the pain and confusion evident in them. “Tell me how to help you.” John said, his voice trembling lightly on the still air. “Tell me how to make it better.”

Dean’s jaw clenched as his hands slowly let go of his throat and his arms lowered. He shook his head no. Behind him Sam was stirring, restless and waking. _Punish_ It wasn’t going to let him go. He stood abruptly, pacing away, opening the window and sticking his head out into the slow drizzle that was all that was left of the night’s storm.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was plaintive, needy. It burned against him and made the need worse. 

John quieted Sam with a touch and moved behind Dean. He touched Dean’s shoulders, pulling him inside and up against him. “Tell me what you need, Son,” he said in his best authoritative voice, the one that never failed to snap both boys to obedience, no matter the situation.

Dean shuddered under his touch, his hands on John’s. “Not…not in front of Sam. Please?”

John nodded. “Go to my room and wait for me.” He was pretty sure he knew what Dean needed…he wasn’t sure he could do it, but he wasn’t above trying.

“Sam…”

“I’ll get Bobby, or Gabe or someone to sit with him for a few minutes.”

“Dad?” Sam was sitting up, concern on his face.

Dean didn’t look at him, just up at his father before he nodded and left the room. “It’s okay, Sam. Dean just needs some…attention. You okay for a minute? I’ll get someone to come sit with you.”

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

“Dean would not forgive me if I left you alone right now.”

“Then I’ll come with you.” He started to get up but John shook his head.

“No, you’ll stay put. He wants this…to be private.” He couldn’t stand here arguing with Sam, or he’d lose the resolve to do it.

“Tell me what’s going on.” John looked at him as he neared the door and Sam was out of bed and reaching for the crutches. “No. You…tell me you aren’t going to hit him.”

John turned away, opening the door. “I’m going to do whatever he needs, Sam. Isn’t that what you told me you were doing?”

Sam stopped, reached for John then pulled back. “D-don’t…don’t use a belt…he’ll ask…please.”

“Sam—just, go lay down.”

“Dad…don’t hurt him.” Sam bit back a sob as John turned to look at him and nodded. He stepped into the hall, just in time see Gabe coming out of the bathroom. 

“Gabe, got a minute?”

Gabe shrugged and nodded. “Sure, whatcha need?”

“I have to—deal with something…could you, maybe, sit with Sam for a bit. We don’t want to leave him alone.”

Gabe paled considerably. “Where’s Dean?”

John bit his lip. “Busy. Do you mind?”

“No. No. Not at all.” 

John stepped clear of the door and Gabe stepped inside. John turned to look at the door across the hall where Dean waited. He could do this. For Dean. He stepped across the hall and opened the door. Dean sat on the bed, waiting. He already looked calmer.

He shut the door and crossed his arms. “Now, tell me.”

Dean fidgeted, then stilled forcibly. “Punish me.” His voice was quiet, almost lost under the sound of the rain outside and the roaring in John’s ears. “Please.”

John’s eyes rolled closed and in that moment he didn’t think he could. “How?” He squeezed the word out of a throat frozen closed. 

Dean wouldn’t look at him. He stood slowly and unzipped his jeans before dropping them and bending over the bed. “U-use your b-belt.”

John stood, staring, unable to move. The room was quiet, but for Dean’s breathing and the rain…it was getting louder. “Please, Dad.”

John jolted forward at the sound of his voice, found himself beside Dean, staring down at his ass, offered up for punishment. “God Dean…I don’t…I don’t think I can…”

Dean’s body was a tense line over the bed, but it tensed even more. “I know you can. I remember.” His hands were fisted in the sheets, his face turned toward the mattress. 

John nodded, even though Dean couldn’t see him. He remembered too. He hadn’t had to do it often. “Not gonna use a belt.” John said, his voice softer, but back in that tone. “I’m going to spank you, Dean. Want you to count it out. Hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean responded, hitching his hips so that his ass rose higher off the bed.

John swallowed hard and closed his eyes, bringing his hand up to the tender flesh. He brought it down with a sound that seemed too loud in the small space, shuddering, even as Dean called out “One,” and his hand rose to swing again.

“Two.”

Two perfect red hand prints stood out against the white flesh and John pulled his hand back. Dean was shaking, but still lifting his ass. “Please.”

“No more, Dean.” John said, pulling one hand over his face. It was warm against the cool skin of his cheeks.

“Not enough. Not…please.”

John had to walk away, to the door and back. “Three.” Dean said softly, “Four.” A little louder that time. His butt was red, hot. His voice cracked at five and John sat heavily on the bed. Dean quivered, sliding down to his knees beside the bed, his arms circling John’s leg, his face pressed into his thigh. His tears soaked through John’s jeans and John’s sobs wracked them both.

 

Gabe looked uncomfortable as Sam pushed away tears. He hobbled back to the bed and collapsed, struggling to bring the cast up, until Gabe’s hands were on his foot, helping. 

“Thanks.” Sam said softly. He didn’t look up, painfully aware that Gabe knew everything…had seen it all. 

“You need anything?” Gabe asked, and Sam glanced up, noticing that Gabe looked away as soon as he realized Sam was looking.

“No. I’m…fine.” Gabe nodded and went to the window, his back to Sam. “I really mean that, Gabe.”

He got the impression Gabe hadn’t heard him…then, ever so slowly, Gabe turned, and he was the one pushing tears away. “I—I don’t know what to say…or if I should…I know you probably know…that I saw…that I was…” 

Sam shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t considered how seeing him would affect the younger man. Sam could forget that Gabe was only eighteen…and a fairly protected eighteen at that. His father kept him close and like other hunters, his world had always been pretty black and white. 

“Dean told me that you and Ellen saw the video feed.” Sam said carefully. “I’ve been wanting to thank you…for being a part of the rescue. Your work probably saved my life.”

Gabe made a face. “I don’t feel like I did all that much.”

Sam smiled and shook his head. “No? The teams knew where to look because of you. Caleb might not have been found if you hadn’t done the thing with the cameras.”

Sam sighed, his eyes stealing to the door. He hadn’t heard anything. It made him nervous. He looked back to Gabe. “It’s okay, Gabe. Dean and Caleb and I, we’re safe now.”

“I-I don’t know if your Dad said anything…but I got some stuff off the facilities mainframe before it crashed…and we may be close to finding the Gorlians.”

The door opened and his father came in. “Hey Gabe. Ellen was looking for you. I got this, go on downstairs.” 

“Yeah, okay. Bye Sam.”

Sam smiled and waved, then looked up at his father. John’s eyes were red and he didn’t look at Sam. “Dean wants to know if you want to eat downstairs or if you want him to bring breakfast up.”

“I want to see him.”

John shook his head. “He’s…he told me that you have to answer the question.”

“Is he okay?”

“Sam…breakfast?” 

Sam crossed his arms. “Fine. I’ll eat here. If Dean eats with me.”

John nodded and looked back into the hallway. His face was hidden by the door, and Sam couldn’t hear what he was saying, but then he was closing the door and crossing to collapse into the chair. Sam stared at him for a long time, before deciding that it wasn’t working.

“You look like shit, you know?”

John chuckled. “I slept in a chair all night.”

“You should go get some real sleep. I’ll be fine.”

“Nope, not getting rid of me that easily.” 

“I hear Gabe found something.”

John shrugged. “Yeah, that’s what it looks like. I haven’t seen it, but it might lead us to the men in charge.”

“When do we leave?”

“What?” John looked genuinely confused.

“We are going after them, right?”

John nodded. “Yes, we will. When you and Dean are strong enough…until then, we’re staying right here.”

“We can’t wait.” Sam said. “They’ll get away. They’ll move and change everything…We have to go after them…before they come for us.”


	28. The Need to Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean talk over breakfast. Gabe and Bobby work together to sort out the information in the encrypted files. Ellen gets news from Ash, and decides it's time to talk to John.

The Dean that came in the room with a tray filled with fruit and some eggs was subdued, quiet. His eyes flicked to his father’s, then Sam’s before setting the tray on the table. “Ellen has breakfast nearly ready downstairs,” he said to John who nodded and stood.

“I’m going to lay down after breakfast for a while, give you boys some time alone.”

It was obvious to Sam they had talked about that, made some sort of agreement. Dean nodded and went about setting the food out on the table. “I’m right across the hall if you need anything.”

Sam nodded, but he wasn’t exactly listening. His eyes were on Dean. It was obvious he had been crying, and his movements were stiff. As the door closed, he turned to Sam, hesitating slightly before coming to help him up. “I thought we’d eat over here, by the window.”

He let Dean get him up and onto the crutches before moving to the chair by the table. He looked at Dean long and hard. “You okay?” he finally asked as he sat.

Dean nodded. “Better.” He handed Sam a cup of coffee with an apologetic expression. “Bobby made it…its’ kinda strong. I brought you sugar though.” He pointed to the packets of sugar.

Sam sipped before making a face and reaching for the sugar. “Kinda strong? I could strip the paint on the Impala with this.”

Dean chuckled, his smile transforming his face from mournful and lost to _Dean_. Sam reached out for his hand and brushed his lips over it. Dean smiled down at him and set a plate in front of Sam. “Eat.”

Sam made a face and let go of Dean. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m just not…” he sighed and stabbed at the scrambled eggs. “Food is just gross.”

Dean’s hand was on his face, turning it up. “I know, Sam. I do. But you have to eat. Okay?”

Sam nodded, turning enough that he could kiss Dean’s palm. “I’m trying.”

Dean nodded. “It was bad for me too. I thought I’d throw up….and Thomas wasn’t keen on that. Got punished for it.”

“T-Thomas?” Sam felt flushed with fear at the name, his hands shaking. He put the fork down. He remembered that punishment, remembered throwing up and getting beaten. He remembered the glee with which Thomas applied the punishment.

“He was my handler too.” Dean said softly, cutting into an apple. “He…was vicious.” He was quiet for a minute, then sighed and reached for his coffee. “At least you didn’t have him and Razz together.”

Sam remembered Razz and the thought of him and Thomas together was terrifying. Dean nodded slowly and went to stand by the window. “The point is Sam, you won’t get sick. Just eat slowly. Little bits, while your stomach readjusts. Okay?” Dean’s voice was soft, a slight quiver coloring it as he looked out into the trees. 

When Sam didn’t answer, Dean turned to look at him. There were tears in his eyes. “Please, Sam?”

Sam picked the fork back up and put the eggs in his mouth, chewing slowly without breaking eye contact. Dean breathed out and came back to the table, sinking onto the second chair with a hitch of an inhale as his ass touched the seat. “It’s important…”

“I know, Dean.” Sam said. “See, I’m eating.”

“You can’t leave me again.” Dean whispered, his voice and eyes dropping.

Sam’s hand fumbled away from the plate and took Dean’s. “Dean?”

“You…you can’t.” He breathed in hard, trying to gather himself. He didn’t look at Sam and Sam couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.

“Dean, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

Dean shook his head. “You need to eat…you need to get better…stronger…so you don’t…get sick….so you don’t…die.”

Sam shivered, then pulled on Dean’s hands to get him to look up. “I’m not going anywhere Dean. I’m not going to die. I’m right here.” Dean blinked, squeezing tears out onto his cheek. “And see, eating.” He took another bite of egg. “See?”

Dean nodded, though he still looked spooked. Sam concentrated on eating, watching each forkful and not looking at Dean. He didn’t know why Dean was suddenly so fragile, but suspected it had to do with what he’d demanded of their father. 

His stomach was full after less than half the eggs, and he nibbled on some grapes until he thought he really would be sick. “Better?” he asked Dean. 

“Yeah. Better.”

“So…you and Dad talk?” It wasn’t a subtle segue, and Dean looked annoyed when he stood. 

“Yeah. He…wants to understand…but it hurts to see the way it makes him feel.”

“Dad is doing his best Dean.” Sam said, squirming a little. They weren’t exactly used to a great deal of emotion that wasn’t anger coming from their father. It wasn’t that he was an angry man, just…obsessed, and a Winchester…which meant that emotion was kept close to the chest.

“He cried.” Dean shook his head. “Its all…weird.” 

“Did he—“ Sam stopped himself. It was a stupid question. Dean had needed punishment, and their father had punished him. Of course it hurt. Of course it left Dean in a strange emotional place. Because Dean wasn’t the same man he’d been when he’d begged Sam to punish him…Dean wasn’t himself, but he remembered himself. “Are you okay?” 

Dean shrugged, his back to Sam. “I—I don’t know. I’m tired of being so…weak….so afraid.”

“You are stronger than anyone I know Dean.” Sam said softly.

“No, Sam, I’m not.” Dean sat on the end of the bed and stared at the floor. “I told him you’d be okay. I told him they wouldn’t touch you, but I knew. God Sam, some part of me knew and I couldn’t…I remember it, and every time I thought about what they were doing to you…”

“Dean…It’s…I’m okay.”

He shook his head. “I’m not.”

Sam leveraged himself up off the chair and limped to his brother. “What are you saying, Dean?”

“I…I’m trying Sam…but its…too much….its just…I’m hurting him, I see it every time he looks at me, and I’m afraid…and I remember when I wasn’t afraid…and fuck but I want to beat the shit out of something...but I’m not sure I can.”

Sam sank onto the bed beside him, taking his hand. “When Dad first came to me, to tell me that you were missing…he was in bad shape. He’d been hunting for you, but couldn’t pick up the trail. He hadn’t eaten in days, and he was so angry with himself.”

He stroked over Dean’s cheek with his free hand. “He was a wreck. I’d never seen him like that. When he told me what happened…when he told me you were gone, he cried. I didn’t know what to do. But it wasn’t you. It wasn’t your fault. He was crying because he couldn’t save you.”

Dean looked at him and sniffed back the tears threatening to fall. “Yeah?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. I think that maybe its still about that. It isn’t your fault, or mine. Dad didn’t keep these things from happening to us…and because he didn’t, it hurts to be reminded that they did happen.”

“I asked him to punish me…because I broke the rules…”

“I know.” Sam kissed his cheek. “Did it help?”

Dean sighed heavily. “I don’t know. I think so.” He sighed again. “It’s all so wrong, you know? I mean…I’d do it again. Too little, too late. But I was wrong and they hurt you…we didn’t get to you fast enough…they shouldn’t have touched you…but they did…and I couldn’t let them…I couldn’t let him…”

“What did you do, Dean?” Sam asked breathlessly, though he was starting to get a picture. 

“I killed him, Sam.”

Sam’s hand stopped it’s tender movement on Dean’s face, moved to cup the back of his neck. “Master James? You killed him?” Sam asked. He figured the man was dead, but assumed he’d died in the explosion, or that their father had killed him.

Dean nodded miserably. “He—he would have found a way out. He would have turned you into what I am. I couldn’t let him have you…I couldn’t...”

Sam closed his eyes and pushed away the terror in his stomach. As bad as it had been, James hadn’t done more than examine him, and yet…and yet…Sam was terrified of him…of what he was, what he could do to them both. He wanted to curl up and block out the memories, but Dean needed him. Dean who’d had James do so much more, who James had trained to submit willingly. “Dean.” He cleared his throat and leaned in to kiss Dean’s cheek again. “Dean…god…”

Dean’s eyes were closed and Sam could see him reliving the moment. “I got his knife. I shoved it up his ass. I…cut him…That knife he used on your back to get me to talk…I used it to…I cut his dick off.”

Dean’s hands were shaking under Sam’s. Sam kissed his face, turning him so that he could press his lips over his cheeks and eyes. “You are the most amazing man Dean.” Sam whispered. “You came for me…knowing what you were coming back into…knowing what he would do to you…you came…and you made it okay…”

He kissed over Dean’s lips, licking his own before kissing a little deeper, letting his tongue linger on Dean’s lip. “I knew what I had to do, when I saw you. When you helped me say the words…I knew Dean…I knew that you’d take care of me. I just had to get there.”

Dean’s hands were on the side of Sam’s face now, pulling him in for more kisses, his lips parting slightly. Sam sank into him, into the familiar feeling of Dean’s lips, Dean’s hands. Dean made a soft, needy sound in the back of his throat and Sam tried to keep the bubbling panic away, tried to not remember what it felt like to be mauled and violated, tried to remember that this was love, this was Dean…this was everything he had…

“Sam.” Dean breathed his name, and Sam’s heart stopped. 

“Right here Dean.” Sam whispered. “Right here.”

 

“It doesn’t make any sense.” Gabe said, sitting back in frustration and looking up at Ellen and Caleb. Bobby was hovering behind him, reading over his shoulder as he tried to make sense of the data in the encrypted files.

“It almost looks like someone at that facility was gathering information to use against the Gorlians.” Bobby said, pointing. “Go to that. I want to see it again.” He read silently for a few minutes then moved back to his chair. “From what I’ve seen the Gorlians are…well, aliases, and it’s almost like it’s a title…like you earn your way up the organization.”

“And someone was gunning to replace one of them?” Ellen asked.

Bobby shrugged. “Don’t know. Just know that whoever created these files had to already be pretty highly placed. There’s a lot of stuff here that’s pretty personal. Whoever did this knew Terry Gorlian…the one Sam dealt with, and knew a lot about the other two.”

Caleb paced around the kitchen a bit, then leaned against the counter. “So…what does this tell us?”

Ellen sat down and sipped on her coffee. “Not much, I’m afraid. Tells us the organization may not be as solid as we thought…or it could just tell us that we killed a rival of the Gorlians in power now.”

“Well, it does give us more addresses to check out.” Gabe said. “Some names to track down.”

“Yeah. That’s something.” Ellen nodded, looking a little distracted. 

Gabe started to say something, then reached for his phone in his pocket. “It’s my dad.” He flipped the phone open. “Hey, Dad.”

Bobby sighed as Gabe moved away to talk to his father, pulling the computer closer again. 

“Bobby?” 

He looked up at Ellen. “Yeah?”

“You remember before Bill died, when he came home all beat up after hunting that werewolf? You were there.”

Bobby nodded. “Yeah, he said that the werewolf turned out to be something else, a berserker or something.”

She nodded, cradling her coffee cup. “He never did like to talk about that.” She shook her head. “Wouldn’t tell me. Wouldn’t let me patch him up.”

Bobby frowned at her and looked up at Caleb who could only shrug. “You okay, Ellen?”

“What?” She looked up, blinking. “Yeah…just…memories. You know?”

Bobby nodded. He knew about memories. 

Gabe came back into the room, looking pale. “The Florida thing is done. It was bad. Dad’s the only one still walking. His whole team is dead or in the hospital. No one’s heard from Gordon and his team.”

“I just did.” John said as he got to the bottom of the stairs. “They’re on their way to someplace in Texas, said that one of the men was…persuaded to talk.”

“Knowing Gordon, I’ll bet I know what kind of persuading was involved.” Caleb said. “What about the rest?”

“Dealt with. Although apparently he had a moment of conscience when he found out that they were brutalizing a demon half breed and not a human.” John shook his head, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. Every fiber of his being was yelling at him, telling him he needed to be out there, hunting these men. 

“Wait. You said Texas?” Gabe pulled the laptop to him, nodding to himself as he searched through the files. “Here. Here. Outside of Austin. There’s a series of warehouses and office buildings under a dummy corporation owned by Harvey Bedell. That’s one of the names that seems to be associated with Marvin Gorlian.”

“We should get more information.” Ellen said. “See if we can start to pin these men down. I’m gonna call Ash. Point him in that direction.”

“I’ve got some people in Austin I can get to do some leg work.” Caleb said, reaching for his own phone.

Ellen slipped out onto the porch and flipped open her cell phone. “Ash. What have you got for me?” She peered in through the window, watching the men scatter, each with their own phones. Her heart was pounding as she listened to Ash re-count the digging he’d had to do. “Just cut to it.” She finally interjected. “That’s what I was afraid of. Damn it. Okay, listen Ash. This is important. I want Jo out of there. I want you both out of there. Close the roadhouse. Take her someplace you’ve never told anyone about, no hunters, no nothing. You go and don’t come back until I call you.”

She moved further away from the door. “I don’t care what she wants, Ash. You tell her I said so and you go. Now. Before dark.”

She exhaled slowly as she hung up the phone. She was going to have to tell John. She was going to have to…She watched him end his own phone call and hang his head. “John?” she called in through the screen door.

His head came up and he nodded, easing out onto the porch. “Take a walk with me?” Ellen asked, not really looking at him.

“What’s up, Ellen?”

“We need to talk.”

 

Dean’s body quivered as Sam held him, stroking him. They whispered almost endlessly, encouragement, reassurances, _Mine_ and _easy_ and _need you_ as they lay facing one another on the bed. Sam’s hand curled casually around Dean’s cock, gentle, soft. _Please_ and _love you_ and _want this_ …

Sam closed his eyes, breathed slowly. Dean was hard in his hand, and he shuddered when Sam’s thumb swiped over the tip. He moved his hands down to fondle Dean’s balls, earned a quick gasp. He kissed over Dean’s face, capturing his lips, already swollen from teeth and lips. “Sam.” Sam’s eyes fluttered open to see Dean, his pupils large and swallowing the green of his eyes. 

“Dean…can you?” Sam whispered, his stroke a long pull that made Dean’s hips thrust into him. “Come for me?”

Dean’s eyes closed, his head thrown back, offering his neck up to Sam who leaned in and kissed his way up the muscle. Dean gasped and thrust forward again, grabbing Sam with both hands as he came, spilling over Sam’s hand. 

Sam’s kiss was fervent, hot tongue and bruising lips. “Better?” he whispered and Dean’s sated smile was enough answer. Sam sat up and wiped his hand on the towel that had come with him after his shower the day before, and then settled in to lay beside his brother. 

Dean sighed and shifted on to his back. Sam echoed the sigh, laying his head on Dean’s shoulder. He knew Dean would sleep now, for a little while at least…leaving Sam alone with his memories and little to buffer him from them. 

 

“You going to tell me what this is about, Ellen?” John asked when they’d walked into the woods far enough that they couldn’t see the cabin.

Her hands were in the pockets of her jeans, bunching up the flannel shirt in front of her. She nodded but didn’t speak right away. “You remember the first time you showed up at the Roadhouse?”

John nodded himself. “I was wiped out. On the road for days.”

“You’d left the boys with Bobby while you chased your Demon.”

“Turned out what I had thought was a lead was nothing…just another low level possession.”

“Bill knew about you before then. Was happy to see you come in. Wanted to show you it didn’t have to be that way...the way you were living.”

“He was so proud of you and Jo.” John said with a smile. “Wanted me to bring the boys around to meet you.”

“He was worried plenty for your boys, John, but it was you that bothered him most.”

“Me?” They stopped in a clearing. “What’s this about, Ellen?”

“That day, when you came in for a beer, Bill was…upset. You reminded him of someone, someone who lived the life you were living…someone that got tore up by that life.”

She paced away, toying with the bark on the nearest tree. “Thought maybe if he couldn’t save Michael, maybe he could save you.”

“Save me from what?”

She heaved a heavy sigh and turned, leaning against the tree. “The dark. The way evil tears through hunters…breaks them…burns into their skin. The ones that don’t have something that scrubs ‘em clean, you know?”

John was trying to follow her, but he was thrown by the vulnerability, the trip down memory lane…and the nagging feeling in his gut that he wasn’t going to like what she had to say when she finally got to the point. 

She saw the look on his face though and shook her head, dropping her eyes to the mossy ground under foot. “Indulge me? Just a little?”

He moved to stand in front of her, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Yeah, okay.”

She smiled fleetingly, then pressed her hands to his chest. “You’re even built a little like him. Like Michael I mean. He was bigger than my Bill. Broader at the shoulders. Didn’t know him well myself. He’d already started getting a little dark when Bill and I met. Kept him away from the Roadhouse, away from me and Jo.”

There were tears in her eyes that she blinked away as she moved away from him. “He couldn't walk away though. Bill…couldn’t stop running every time he called. I guess, that’s what big brothers do.”


	29. Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellen reveals a secret to John, Sam falls apart, and it only gets worse when Caleb tries to help him. John learns a little more than he might have wanted to about Sam's ordeal and remembers something from his past.

“Big brothers?” John asked following her across the clearing.

She nodded. “Bill was older, about 4 years, give or take a month or two. Michael, he was…reckless, emotional. He let it all fester inside him. Course, it was worse for him. He was there when the demons killed their mother.”

She stuck her hands back in her pockets. “He was fifteen. Bill was already working, nights at the Roadhouse with his daddy. Michael was home looking after their mama when they came. Demon possessed gang, looking for kicks. That kinda thing scars a kid.”

“That’s what got Bill into hunting.” John said, nodding when she looked up at him. “He told me that much, never mentioned he had a brother though.”

“Michael was everything to Bill after their father died chasing the demons. They ran together, like you and your boys…hunting, chasing, and then one day they found me.”

She crossed her arms. “Bill wanted to settle down, hunt still, but find himself something comfortable…have a family. Michael…he wanted none of that. They fought a lot. Then Michael went out on his own.”

“You telling me Michael went bad?”

“Not at first, of course. He got dark, brooding, made bad calls. He’d come around every now and again, drag Bill off on some hunt. Bill always came home angry. Finally, Bill had enough. Told Michael not to call. He never told me what happened.”

John knew she wasn’t just telling stories, visiting old memories. She had a point. One he wasn’t going to like. “Are we going somewhere with this?”

She nodded slowly. “I’m getting there. Two months before Bill died, he went out on a hunt alone. It was supposed to be a werewolf. It wasn’t. He came back beat all to hell and wouldn’t talk about it.”

This part John knew. “It was a berserker, the same one we went after together two months later.”

She nodded. “You didn’t kill it.”

John shook his head. “No, it was dead. I cut off it’s fucking head, Ellen.”

She closed her eyes. “Then maybe it isn’t what I thought. Maybe he was controlling it…maybe…”

“Ellen, stop and tell me what’s going on.”

She took a deep breath and turned to look him in the eye. “I’ve thought Michael was dead. I’ve thought you killed him, after he killed Bill. All this time, I was sure he was the berserker. He liked to play with animal spirits, Bill figured that one finally got the better of him…but maybe…maybe he found a way to control one.” 

“You’re telling me Bill’s brother has something to do with this?”

She couldn’t keep the tears from falling this time. “I think that Michael **is** Marvin Gorlian.”

 

Sam carefully pulled himself free of this brother. The touch of skin on skin was too much, too familiar. Robert’s voice echoed in his head…and made Dean’s hand on his hot with memory.

_“I love you so much. I can’t stand watching them hurt you. Make it stop, baby. You know how. Just tell him you want to be good. Tell him you want to serve him. You want to learn to be a good slave for your master.”_

Sam shivered and sat up. His stomach roiled, and he tried to breathe through it. His breakfast sat heavily in him, threatening to come up. That would upset Dean. He was cold, his back ached…his leg throbbed. Dean rolled closer, the skin of his arm ghosting over Sam’s and Sam got out of bed. The thought of even Dean touching him was…terrifying. 

He could feel Caleb’s eyes, watching…could taste the come on his tongue as the trainers traded places. He’d told himself he could handle it…that he could forget it…that he could survive it…he never considered how bad it could be…how the touch would stay with him. 

Dean’s hands…in the shower…Dean’s hands, moving over him, touching him, washing his ass, his fingers inside Sam, cleaning him…making him come when Sam didn’t think he could…Dean showing him how to submit…offering himself up to James…

Sam leaned his forehead against the wall. It was too much. He wasn’t strong enough to handle it. He wasn’t Dean. He wasn’t the son his father wanted. He was weak…he was nothing.

_Nothing. No one. Alone._

Sam whimpered, turning and sliding down the wall to sit huddled against it.

_”Say it.” Thomas growled._

_Sam hung from the shackles on his wrists, bent knees scraping the metal floor. He bit his tongue to stop himself and Thomas hit Caleb again. “You gonna let me beat him to death, slave?”_

_“No.” Sam moaned, not looking at Caleb or Thomas._

_“Then say it.”_

_“N-nothing.” Sam whispered. There was a loud crack before he felt the sting on his back._

_“Louder.”_

_“Nothing.” Sam managed._

_“Finish it.”_

_“No one. Alone.”_

_Thomas moved to the door of his cage, beckoning in the next to torment him. “You will ask him if you may please suck his cock.”_

_Sam’s stomach churned, and his eyes slipped to Caleb. The older man was bruised, his back welted. Caleb shook his head, telling Sam to refuse. Thomas leaned into Sam’s face. “You will ask him nicely, or I will lay into your whipping boy so hard, the blood spatter will reach you all the way over here.” Sam shook, his entire body quaking._

_“P-p-please…” Sam nearly bit his tongue he was shaking so hard. “M-m-may I…”_

_The sound of leather on flesh reverberated around him and Sam’s eyes closed. Caleb did his best not to cry out, but he couldn’t take much more. Sam couldn’t let him take much more. “P-please…m-may I s-suck….your c-cock, s-sir?” Sam stuttered out. He was rewarded with the lowering of his chain, enough that his knees hit the floor. Something inside him broke, he closed off the part of him that held out the hope that someone was coming for him._

_The man was in front of him and Sam opened his mouth, just opened his mouth and waited._

Sam hit his head against the wall, biting his lip to keep from crying out…he couldn’t let anyone see…couldn’t…He hit his head a little harder, pressing his back against the wall until he could feel the scabbed over cuts breaking open. 

Some part of him knew he had to stop, knew he was going to wake his brother…hurt himself…but he couldn’t stop. He threw himself against the wall again and again. He could taste blood in his mouth…but the copper tang was better than the memory of come, of cock.

“Sam?”

His ears buzzed, and the voice seemed distant. The hand on his arm burned though, burned like fire and Sam pulled away. “No! No more. No more.” He slapped at the hand and turned toward the wall.

“Come on Sam. Calm down.”

There was a hand on his face now and Sam tried to pull away, but his head was ringing. “Fuck! Bobby! I need some help.” 

Sam tried to focus on the voice, tried to claw his way out of the dark inside him, but when his eyes opened and Caleb’s bruised face was all he could see, Sam felt his body seize up, felt his face flushed and hot.

“What the hell?” 

“We need to get something into him.” 

“Sam?” 

“Dean, go get your father.”

Sam didn’t follow it, couldn’t make out who was who…only knew he was falling…and the hands reaching out to him were pulling him down into the abyss.

 

“What happened?” John asked, once they’d injected a fair amount of sedative into Sam and the convulsions had stopped.

“I heard knocking on the wall, and when I came in, he was hitting himself against the wall. I tried to help, and he started convulsing.” Caleb said. 

John nodded and looked to where Dean was huddled in the corner of the room. Dean’s knees were drawn up to his chest, his forehead on his knees. John could tell he was crying. “Okay, let’s get Sam up into the bed.” 

Between Caleb and Bobby and John, they lifted Sam and settled him into bed on his side. John cursed at the blood soaking through his shirt and matted in his hair. “I’m going to need the med kit…and Ellen.”

“I’ll go.” Caleb said, disappearing. 

John peeled the wet t-shirt from Sam’s back, grimacing as it pulled off whatever scabbing had remained after Sam had beat himself against the wall. His eyes shot to Dean. He was going to have to deal with Dean soon. “Bobby, see if you can figure out how bad he hit his head.”

He brushed his hands on his jeans and went to squat by Dean. “Hey.”

Dean shook his head without raising it. “My fault. Shouldn’t have slept. Shouldn’t have let him be alone.”

“Dean. Look at me.” 

Dean raised a tear stained face, his breath erratic as John’s head descended on his knee. “This isn’t your fault. Sam just had a…little break down. It’s okay. He’s gonna be fine.”

“No…he…did it for me…he wasn’t ready. I shouldn’t let him. I should have said no.”

“Dean? What happened?” John glanced up at Bobby who was tenderly pulling the blood soaked hair away from Sam’s wound. “What did you let him do?”

“I…I let him…he…helped me.” Dean dropped his eyes and John shook his head. He didn’t want to know this. Didn’t want to think about his boys like that. “It wasn’t good for him…I should have…I should have known…but he wanted…he said he wanted…”

“It’s okay Dean. It’s okay.” John whispered, quieting him. “He’ll be okay. It’s just a little concussion, and he opened up the cuts in his back.”

They were quiet then. Ellen appeared at the door with the med kit, her eyes sweeping over John and Dean, Sam and Bobby. She thankfully didn’t ask, just went to Bobby with the kit, opening it to pull out gauze and antiseptic. 

“I don’t want him to die.” Dean said quietly, pulling John’s attention back to him.

“He’s not going to die, Dean.” John said.

“He…wants to…sometimes.”

“He--what?” John dropped to his knees in front of his son. “What are you saying?”

“He—he told me…can’t be alone, he said. I left him alone.”

John’s breath escaped him, like he’d been sucker punched. “What? Why would he say that?”

Dean’s expression was hurt and annoyed all at once. “He’s…dirty. He feels like nothing…not good enough…not wanted…like he’s just…like me…a whore.” His voice nearly disappeared on the last words.

John shook his head. It was too much information…his head was swimming with Ellen’s revelation and Sam’s pain and Dean’s need. “Fuck.” He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. 

“John, you okay?” Ellen’s voice reached him and he shook his head. 

“Deal with Sam. I’m fine.” He blew out a slow breath, reaching for Dean’s hands. “I need you to pay attention Dean. This is important.”

Dean nodded.

“You are not…not a whore…not a slave. Neither is Sam.” John’s throat constricted and he had to swallow hard. “You’re my sons.”

Dean calmed considerably, his eyes narrowing as they looked up into John’s. “Being your son doesn’t mean I’m not also what he made me.”

“John?” 

He looked up at Ellen. “You should take a look at this.” She was holding Sam’s mouth open.

Dean nodded, and John climbed to his feet. “What?”

“He’s bit a pretty deep gash into his tongue. It’s still bleeding.”

Bobby held up some bloody gauze. “He’s gonna have a good headache when he comes to, but it isn’t as bad as it could be.”

John leaned over Sam to look. He sighed. “Okay. Let’s see about that tongue.” Ellen moved to let him on the bed where he could get a better look. “Damn…that’s gotta hurt.” The bleeding had slowed, but the tongue was going to be tender and swollen when Sam woke up. “I think it’ll be okay.”

“Maybe we should keep him sedated a while?” Bobby asked. “Maybe both of them could use it.” 

John followed his gaze to Dean who was rocking slowly in the corner. “That only postpones it, Bobby. They’ve gotta deal with it, or we’ll still be doing this six months from now.”

“You say that like it’s easy.” Ellen said, her hand on his arm.

He closed his eyes. “Please, Ellen. I don’t know how much more of your nudging I can take before it’s me you’re sedating, okay?”

“Fair enough.”

“You look wiped out. Why don’t you let me finish this up?” Bobby said, indicating Sam’s wounded back. “Get some rest.”

John shook his head. “I’m not leaving them.”

“No one’s asking you to John, but what good are you to them if you can’t even stand up?” Ellen asked. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you and Dean go to your room and get some rest. Bobby and I will stay with Sam until one of you is up to taking over.”

“I’m not leaving.” Dean said, though he hadn’t moved.

Ellen rolled her eyes and headed for the door. “Fucking Winchesters.”

 

Sam’s first thought that wasn’t drug induced was that he was going to be sick. His hands flailed out to define his place, and he rolled to what he thought was the edge of the bed. A hand steadied him as his stomach revolted, and he vomited. When the heaving was done, the hand pulled him back onto the bed, a warm wash cloth wiping over his mouth. 

“Dad?”

“Yeah, Sam.” His voice was deep and rumbled through Sam from behind. Slowly Sam became aware of his father’s body, close behind his without touching.

“What time is it?”

“Afternoon. Not sure.” His hand stroked over Sam’s head. “How you feeling?”

“Headache, sick.”

“Not surprised. You gave yourself a concussion and swallowed a lot of blood from the gash you bit in your tongue.”

Sam could feel his tongue was swollen, sore, but the truth was his head hurt more. “Where’s Dean?”

He felt his father sit up a little. “Ellen made Bobby and Caleb move the table out of the room and brought in another bed. He’s sleeping.”

Sam couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes just yet. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, Sam. He’s fine. He’s scared, but he’s fine.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I don’t know what happened.” He could still feel the drugs, but it wasn’t enough…the panic lay under the dull ache…under the pain and nausea…waiting.

He could feel the long line of his father behind him. He wanted to roll over, face him, but his back hurt. 

“Can you tell me?”

His mind skipped back to the moment…the heat of Dean’s hand on his, the memory of Robert’s words…soft, loving…and the cascading feelings and thoughts…words…”The smell…after…after he came…it…I could…” He curled forward, away from his father. “I could taste it…you don’t…no…Dad.” 

“I don’t know how to help you Sammy.” John said, his voice whispered over Sam’s ear. “I don’t know what you’re going through and you won’t tell me. Dean’s scared, and you don’t know how much that frightens me.”

Sam’s eyes opened finally, stealing a glance back at his father. John’s face was shadowed, his eyes dark and sunken. Pulling himself up so that his back didn’t scrape across the sheet, Sam turned to face his father. “Why is he so scared?” Sam asked, his voice nearly as soft as John’s had been.

“He’s afraid you…don’t want him…that you want to die.” John pushed the words out, forced them.

Sam pulled back a little, startled. He shook his head. “No…I mean…ugh, I don’t know what I mean.” He laid down again, his head on the pillow inches from his father’s. 

“Did you tell him you wanted to die?” John asked, and Sam hated the way his eyes fractured and looked away.

“I…I said I would rather die than try to do this alone.” Sam whispered. “You must both hate me…I-I can’t do this…can’t do anything right. You wouldn’t look at me…when I told you…and Dean…I want him to want me…but can’t let him touch me…and that’s not what he needs right now…” Sam hated himself, but couldn’t stop now that he’d started.

“I-I am so disgusting…and Robert was right….he was right all along…I’m nothing…they just…used…and they made me…god…Daddy.” Sam grabbed John’s hands and pulled them to him. He hadn’t called his father that since he was 11. “They made me say please….P-Please….they hit Caleb until he was bloody and he told me no…he shook his head…but he was broken…it was my fault…and I could stop it…just had to ask…p-please…may I?” Sam shuddered, his body remembering. “Please…and Caleb….he watched…they fucked me while he watched…made me ask for it…came in my mouth…made me say thank you…thank you…”

Some part of him realized he was babbling and his father was crying and he didn’t know how to stop. He closed his eyes and held onto his father’s hands like they anchored him, made it okay to say it all…to put it all out… “I am nothing…weak…so weak, Daddy…I can’t be like Dean…can’t…I can feel them inside me when they look at me…Caleb and Gabe and Ellen….I can feel them all over again…and it hurts….and he…he…touched me…said he loved me…and I killed him…I killed him…and he was right…he was right…it’s wrong…its so wrong…I know and you hate me because of it….god, don’t hate me Daddy…don’t hate me…don’t hate me…don’t hate me…”

John’s lips pressed against his head, his forehead. “Shh…Sammy…no, never…never…love you. I love you. I love you so much…we can do this…we can do this together…shh…” Kisses pressed against Sam’s closed eyes, against their joined hands. Sam still whispered his litany of words, though so softly now John couldn’t make out what he was saying. 

Tears drenched his face, but he didn’t stop whispering back, reassurances of his love, kisses over any part of Sam’s face he could reach. Sam’s hands held his tight, almost painfully as sobs wracked through his body and shook the bed. “I’m here, Sammy….right here…not leaving you. Love you so much.”

Slowly Sam stilled beside him…the sobs dwindling to random bouts of shivering, the whimpering sounds and words trailing off, though his lips were still moving. His grip loosened a little and John shifted, reaching behind him for the syringe Bobby had left for him. “Sam?” 

He let his free hand caress Sam’s face, cajoling him into opening his eyes. “Sam, I can give you something…let you sleep some more. Do you want it?”

Sam looked like a little boy again when his eyes opened and he took a shuddering breath. “Will you stay with me? If I sleep, will you stay?”

John nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah, Sam…I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Sam nodded, watching as John stuck the needle into his arm, wet eyelashes closing over red eyes as the sedative took hold. John sat beside him, one hand caressing his arm as he fell asleep again. When he was sure Sam was asleep, he sat up, turning away from his son to pull a hand over his face. His hands trembled and he thought maybe he’d be sick too now.

He sucked in big breaths and pushed to standing. He checked on Dean and paced the small space left in the room with the two beds in it. The clock on the night stand said it was only two in the afternoon…it didn’t seem possible, considering what the day had brought them. 

John knew his boys both blamed themselves for what had happened to them…but after Ellen’s revelation in the woods, John Winchester knew the truth. He knew exactly where the blame for this whole thing lay. He stared into the mirror over the small dresser. The part he still wasn’t clear on though was whether it was because he’d killed the berserker, or that he’d tried to save Bill. 

He could still hear the sound he’d made, sucking in air through the blood. John tried to stop it, but Bill was so torn up…and when the berserker came back for more he’d fired both of their guns until they were empty, and it still came. Covered in bear skins, so that they couldn’t even see it’s face…and Bill pleaded for it, with his final breaths. “Please…John…please…” 

The hunting knife sliced it’s belly open just before it’s claws would have done the same to him. John rode it to the ground, crawling over it to hack it’s head off so that it couldn’t get back up. Still Bill begged…and it took a while for John to recognize what he was asking. A three day hike out of there, and Bill would never live through half of it.

“Please…”

John thought at that moment that maybe it was the single most vile word in the English language.


	30. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellen and Caleb do something rash; Sam and Dean learn the truth about the eldest Gorlian, and Gabe tries to help John.

Dean felt the thick air against his skin as he woke, the sound of distant thunder and the smell of rain easing him out of nightmares and into the thin gloom of a late afternoon storm. It was cloying, sitting heavily in the room like the dreams sat in the back of his brain. 

He moved just enough to see the other bed, the lump of blankets that was Sam, and their father beside him. John’s eyes opened and Dean looked away quickly. He wasn’t ready to face that…to face him. 

They’d had to sedate Sam. Dean had failed him yet again. Should have seen. Should have known. Sam wasn’t ready, it was so fresh…so real. Dean had had the time to push it all away, make it something less than real…except in his dreams. 

Dean swallowed and turned over. He was sweaty, itchy…dirty. He should shower. Get clean…He looked up again at his father. John didn’t understand. Maybe he never would. Maybe Dean didn’t really understand either. His father’s eyes had closed again. It was easier if he wasn’t looking. Easier alone.

Dean slipped out of bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. Shower. Clean. He needed to be clean. He felt his father’s eyes, but he didn’t speak. Dean breathed in relief as the door closed behind him and he was across the hall in the bathroom where he was safe.

He knew that was an illusion, one master crafted to provide a respite, a place where his slaves could gather themselves, pull themselves together. Some part of him knew that’s what the bathroom ritual was all about. It gave the slave the illusion of control over something…gave him a way of coping.

Dean had spent so much time alone… _Nothing. No one. Alone._ in his captivity…in his cage. Even when he was in the room with Master, he was alone, not noticed unless service was required. 

The wall behind the sink was covered in a mirror, from the counter top to the ceiling. Dean stared at the reflection staring back at him. His skin was pale, and faded scars crisscrossed his chest. He started the shower and peeled off the sweats. Those scars came from before…before he was taken…all but that “J” above his left nipple. 

One finger traced a long, thin scar on his abdomen. It was from a fence. He’d been the bait for trapping a spectral dog, and he’d gotten caught. Sam had saved him, jumping out of his cover and firing off with rock salt to keep the thing at bay until Dean had wriggled free of his bloody shirt.

Steam was spilling out of the shower, and Dean sighed, turning to get in. It was so much easier to function on his own. Easier to not have to figure out what was expected of him, what they needed from him….just do what he knew…just stop thinking for a little while…stop remembering everything…all the contradictions…

The water poured over him and he let himself let go, losing himself in the careful ministrations to his body. It was simple and easy. Comforting. When he was done, freshly shaved and wrapped in a fluffy towel, Dean looked at himself again in that mirror. His skin was a warm pink now, heated by the water and scrubbed clean. That too was an illusion. Like Sam, he’d never really be clean again.

But he could pretend.

He would pretend. And he would teach Sam how to do the same. 

Maybe, if they pretended long enough, they could make themselves believe.

 

“Fucking stubborn Winchesters.” Ellen mumbled as she stomped down the stairs. She paused at the bottom to fish her vibrating phone out of her pocket. The caller id said “Jo” and a bit of panic flashed through her. She flipped it open. “Jo?”

“What the hell is this?”

Relief flooded her. “Honey, I—“

“Did you tell Ash to drag me off to some God forsaken hell hole?”

“Jo, listen to me—“

“I’m a big girl. I can handle—“

“No, Jo. You can’t handle this. Just listen to me for once without thinking I’m treating you like a child. Go with Ash. I’ll call you in a few days.”

“You are treating me like a child.”

“Jo—“ Ellen shook her head. She was tired…down to her bones tired and not in the mood to fight this one out. “Put Ash on the phone.” Ellen waited until Ash spoke, then sighed. “Tell her. Tell her everything so that she’ll understand. If that isn’t enough, tie her, gag her…whatever you have to do to keep my little girl safe. You hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“Good. Put her on.” When Jo’s voice was back, Ellen sighed again. “You listen to what he has to say. Then you go. No arguing.”

She put the phone back in her pocket and sighed. No matter how she turned this around in her head, she knew that sitting here, in a cabin in the middle of nowhere would fix nothing. Someone had to end this, and neither John nor his boys were in any shape to even start thinking about such things.

The cabin was quiet. Someone was in the shower. Gabe had gone out for a walk, and Bobby was…grieving alone in his room. She could see Caleb’s head through the window. She walked out onto the porch, leaning against the railing and looking at Caleb, who sat looking at nothing.

She knew better than to ask if he was okay. He’d been shaking when he’d come to find her to tend to Sam. She knew that he was thinking he’d caused some of that, that somehow Sam had reacted to Caleb’s presence. 

“Want to do something about it?” Ellen asked slowly. 

He turned to her just as slowly. “Like what?”

“I’ve got an address and a tank of gas. It’s a long drive, but…I’m thinking he won’t see us coming.”

“Gorlian?” Caleb asked, his eyes narrowing.

She nodded. “You, me, a couple of guns and some really good explosives. He’s fucked with my boys for the last time.”

She dug in her pocket for her keys and held them up. 

“Should we tell someone?”

She didn’t smile. “I’ll leave a note. Round us up some ammunition.”

Ellen didn’t let herself think about it. He was family. Should be dealt with by family. Just like Bobby’d said about Robert. Her responsibility. She scribbled a note and left it on the table before she slipped on her sunglasses and headed out the door. Caleb was throwing a duffle bag into the back seat of her car. Ellen nodded and skipped down the steps. They could get to the state border by sunset, Austin in a little more than 24 hours, if they didn’t stop.

 

Dean let himself back in the room and rummaged in his bag for a clean pair of jeans, which he pulled on. He felt his father approach and turned to face him. “I’m okay.” Dean said, meeting his father’s concerned eyes with his own. “How’s Sam?”

“Still sleeping. I gave him some more when he woke up earlier.”

Dean nodded. “Did he say anything?”

Something passed over his father’s face, too fast to catch. John nodded. “Babbled a lot…cried…” He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

Dean raised a hand to the pale cheek that still showed signs of his father’s own tears. “You too.”

John nodded. He was clearly trying to see just how strong Dean was, trying to see past the pretend. “I’m okay, Dad. Promise.”

“You have to tell me when you’re not, okay Dean? Before it falls apart. I can’t help you if I don’t know. If I don’t understand.”

Dean nodded. He could handle that. “Yeah. I get it.”

John sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Did you sleep enough?”

Dean shrugged. “It’ll do. Besides, only a few hours it will be time for bed again, right?” He looked at Sam. “He’s going to need to eat, especially with all those drugs in him.”

“He might still be pretty queasy, between the blood he swallowed and the bump on the head and the sedatives.”

Dean smiled and nodded. “Chicken soup it is then. You’ll stay?”

John nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be right here.”

Dean padded over the hard wood floors and down the stairs. He’d had Ellen buy chicken and stars soup when they went to town because he remembered Sam had liked it when they were younger. It wouldn’t take long to warm some up. 

It was as he was putting the bowls on the tray that his eyes fell on the small piece of paper on the table. He picked it up, angling it toward the fading rays of evening sun coming in through the window.

_Time to cut the head off this snake. E._

Dean had a sinking feeling in his stomach and a quick look out the window confirmed that her car was gone. He tucked the note in his pocket and headed up the stairs.

Sam was awake when he got there, though whether it was because their father woke him or he came to on his own, Dean couldn’t be sure. John helped him sit up, propping him with pillows. Sam groaned when he saw the tray and Dean smiled for him.

“I told you three meals, even if I had to sit on you. We seem to have missed lunch.” He set the tray down on the bed and pulled the note out of his pocket, handing it to his father. “We may have a problem though.”

John glanced down at the note, then went to the window. “What the fuck does she think she’s gonna do?”

“Dad?” Sam asked, wincing as he tried to adjust the way his back lay against the pillows.

“Ellen. She took off.”

“Where?”

John sighed, realizing suddenly that neither of them knew what Ellen had told him in the woods. In fact, no one did. “After Gorlian, I assume.”

Sam’s face paled. “Gabe’s information is that good?”

John shrugged. “I…we don’t know yet, but she isn’t getting all her information from Gabe…and…” He sat on the other bed, his head in his hands. “…she…knows him.”

“She what?” Sam sat forward, his face flushing.

“Calm down, before you pull out the stitches.”

“Stitches?” Dean asked, glancing at Sam. “You said he was fine.”

“He is fine, but Bobby thought it safer to stitch up two of the deeper cuts.”

“Dad?” Sam said again. 

“Yeah Sam. Yeah. Gabe’s information led us to some names. Names Ellen recognized. It’s a really long story. Goes back to when you were both pretty young.” He blew out a long breath and nodded. “She thinks that Marvin Gorlian is actually Michael Harvelle, her estranged brother in law.”

He didn’t look up. “She thought he was dead. She thought I killed him.” Dean’s hand was on his shoulder, and John smiled sadly up at him. “I kept you boys out of it, kept you away from the hunters I didn’t know well, and some that I did. I knew Ellen and Bill pretty well. Bill and I went out on hunts from time to time. But…we went up against a berserker, bear spirit purposely brought into a human body for no other point than to kill. It took Bill before I could get a clean shot…left him tore up and just about dead before I killed it.”

“Michael was Bill’s brother. A hunter. He went dark. They both thought he was the berserker. We never saw its face, it was hidden under bear skins and it’s face was all torn up, mutilated…but now, evidence leads to Michael…and it looks like Ellen’s gone off to face him.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “He’s family. She thinks he’s her responsibility.”

“Like Robert.” Dean said quietly.

John nodded and stood. “You two eat. I’m gonna see if she spoke to anyone before she left.”

Dean sighed heavily as he left the room, then moved to Sam’s side, pulling the tray closer. “You want me to feed you, Sammy?” Dean asked playfully, holding the bowl up between them.

“Not hungry.” Sam said, pulling the blanket closer.

“Sam.”

“Dean.” Sam’s face was pissy, irritated as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sick…my stomach is…not good.”

Dean nodded, stirring the soup. “I know…Dad told me. But…you have to eat. Okay? It’s chicken and stars.”

Sam looked at him funny. “Chicken and stars?”

“What? I can’t make you something you like?” He held up a spoonful. “I watered it down too, for your stomach.”

Sam looked at the soup on the spoon and crinkled his nose. “You used to make me chicken and stars when I was sick.”

Dean nodded. “Eat a little.”

Sam sighed. “If I get sick, you’re cleaning it up.”

Dean nodded again. “That’s what big brothers are for.”

Sam rolled his eyes and let Dean feed the soup into his mouth. It was only lukewarm, and tasted like soup from a can that was only lukewarm…a slight metallic tasted that threatened to set his stomach off. He made a face and turned away. “Stop.” He held up his hand as Dean tried to put a second spoonful in his mouth. “Maybe crackers?” He pointed to the stack of crackers on the tray. 

Dean nodded and handed him several. “Sorry…it’s…not good.”

Sam made a face again. “I’m sure if my stomach wasn’t all icky it would be fine.”

“I was never very good at the cooking thing.”

“We never starved.” Sam countered, nibbling on the corner of one of the crackers.

“No, I guess not.” Dean slurped at the soup himself. “Good thing you liked Spaghettios and Lucky Charms.”

Sam nodded blankly. After a long silence, Sam’s hand stole out to touch Dean’s knee where it sat close to Sam’s hip. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean stilled, looking at him closely. “For what, Sammy?”

Sam’s eyes closed and for a minute Dean thought he might be heading for another melt down. “I’m…everything?” Sam took a deep breath and pulled his hand back. “I’ve never been a very good brother to you…and I got you all mixed up in this…it’s all my fault, you know?”

Sam dared a look up at Dean, only to find him staring at Sam in disbelief. “I mean…Robert…he chose you because of me. He gave you to them because of me. You had to go back in there because of me. I was the one who made you…you know…I was the one who kissed you…and pushed for more…”

Dean set the bowl aside and folded his hands on his knee. “Let me get this straight, Sam. You think that everything that happened to me this last year is your fault?”

Sam re-crossed his arms and huffed. “Yes?”

Dean was shaking his head. “For a college boy, you really can be stupid, you know that?”

Sam bit his lip and looked away. “Don’t.”

“You know Dad blames himself too, right? And Bobby? How do you think he feels?” Dean reached out to Sam’s hand, pulling it free and holding it. “Hell Sam, I feel it too. You think I don’t feel guilty that Robert got away with you? I was fucking hiding, Sam. And I knew what they would do to you. You think I don’t feel like hell that you had to go through….that? That I _let_ you go through that?” Dean’s thumb rubbed along the back of Sam’s hand. “It eats me up inside. Sometimes I can’t even look at you it’s so bad.”

Sam blinked at the tears, tried to keep them at bay. He was tired of crying. He was tired of feeling so…broken. He shook his head. “I don’t blame you.”

Dean nodded. “I know. And I don’t blame you or Dad, or Bobby either.”

They were quiet, and after a minute, Dean pulled his hand away to pick the bowl up again and continue eating. The soup was cold, but he ate it anyway. It felt good, this pretending and talking…being the big brother. “So, I’ve got this theory,” he said after a long time. “Wanna hear it?”

Sam nodded slowly and Dean grinned. “Okay…so…I know who I used to be, right? I know who Dean Winchester is…even if I’m not really him right now. I know what ‘okay’ looks like, even if I’m not okay right now.”

Sam was frowning at him. “Okay…so it isn’t rocket science. Just…listen.” Dean shifted a little, putting the bowl down again. “So…when I was…gone…the training…it’s basically the same. You know what to do and you do it, even though it doesn’t feel right…even though it goes against everything. And, it gets easier…it starts to feel…right...and eventually…you become what you’re pretending to be.”

“So…you want me to pretend. To be…okay?”

Dean nodded. “I mean, it isn’t perfect…and it takes a lot of time…and we’ll both have bad days…when we can’t remember and can’t pretend…like today…but maybe, if we just try…” He licked his lips and met Sam’s eyes. “If we pretend long enough, we can start to believe it…you know…train ourselves.” His voice dropped to not much more than a whisper.

Sam just looked at him for a long time, then his eyes flicked away and he nodded slowly. “Yeah…it makes sense…sort of.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah?” For some reason Sam’s validation thrilled him. “Good. But I want you to promise me something, okay?” He didn’t wait for Sam to respond. “For this to work, you have to tell me, when it’s too much, when it hurts or you can’t pretend. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

 

John cursed as he prowled the front porch. Up until now, Ellen had been the level head in the group, the one that kept the rest of them from running off half cocked. Now, she was gone, running off after maybe the most dangerous enemy any of them had ever faced. It was beginning to look like she hadn’t gone alone either. Caleb was no where to be found.

Gabe approached nearly silently, making John jumped when he’d spotted him. He was way off his game. “Everything okay?” Gabe asked.

John shook his head. “No. Everything is not okay.” He was beginning to wonder if it ever would be again. “Ellen and Caleb are gone.”

Gabe frowned, glancing to the place where Ellen’s car had been. “Gone where?”

“Gorlian. They’ve gone after Gorlian.”

“Alone? That’s…suicidal.” Gabe pulled the rubber band out of his hair, rubbing a hand through the blond shaggy mess that put Sam’s to shame.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.” John said. “Fuck, I should be out there running that sick bastard to ground.”

“I know that feeling.” Gabe said. “So what do we do?”

John scowled at him. “I don’t know. I can’t leave Sam and Dean, not again.”

“I’m sure they don’t want to be just sitting here either.” Gabe chewed on his lip for a minute. “I know that, if it were me, I’d want to be a part of it…part of the ending of the men responsible.”

“They aren’t ready for that.” John shook his head. “Sam…Sam’s barely holding it together…and physically…he’s been through so much.”

“I know.” Gabe’s stomach twisted. “I re-live it every night in my dreams…and I only saw some of it. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him.” He crossed his arms over his chest, shivering as thunder rumbled around them. “What about Dean? How’s he?”

John sighed and sank into the chair behind him. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

“I was doing some…research…online. The psychology of it.”

“You…what?”

Gabe shook his head and blushed. “I—it’s what I do.”

“And?”

“Well…I’d have to say that Sam’s having pretty classic reactions to r-r—what was done to him…from what I’ve read…anyway. Eventually he’ll get to angry and work out a way to…you know, deal with it…if anyone ever deals with…that.”

Gabe shoved his hands in his pockets. “Dean…well, I figure he’s got the conditioning buffering him from a classic response to the things they did to him…and they broke him…so his issues are…different…cause he…accepted it already, the brutality I mean…But…he remembers, and everything I read said that was a good sign.”

John sighed again and Gabe chewed on his lip. “Yeah, not really helpful…I know.”

Lightening split the sky and thunder rumbled along behind it as the skies darkened and a cold, heavy rain started to fall. “I just feel so…useless.”

John watched the rain fall and nodded. He understood that. He’d never felt more useless in his life.


	31. Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam makes breakfast while trying to pretend for Dean, Ellen and Caleb get to Austin, Dean has a strong reaction to a suggestion Sam makes...and Dean helps Sam feel better.

Sam woke sometime before dawn, the weight of Dean’s body pressing into the mattress beside him. His dreams had been vague and they left him feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, though the screaming fear seemed to be in recession. 

He was tired of looking at the room. He was restless and itchy. He hated feeling like an invalid. Careful not to disturb Dean, Sam inched his way to the edge of the bed and reached for his crutches. He’d like to shower, but the stitches and the cast would make it difficult without help, so instead he dug out a t-shirt and slipped it on over his head.

Sam made his way out into the hall and slowly down the stairs.

The air was cool and still tasted of the rain that had been falling the last few days. Sam sighed as he stood at the door looking out over the trees. Ellen and Caleb had gone after Gorlian, and a part of him was glad. It meant he didn’t have to face them, didn’t have to see their pity. It meant their father hadn’t gone, though Sam knew he wanted to. 

Hell, part of Sam wanted to be out there, going after them.

Part of Sam wanted to take Dean and go far, far away to deal with all of this in private.

And another part of him didn’t want to deal with it at all. He sighed and closed his eyes. Dean wanted him to pretend. Sam wasn’t sure he could, but if it helped Dean, he was willing to try.

The skies were starting to lighten, and he knew Dean would wake up soon. With a deep breath he decided that he’d surprise his brother with breakfast…something sweet. He hobbled into the kitchen and searched until he came up with a skillet and pancake mix. 

It wasn’t an easy thing to do, trying to cook while standing on crutches, but he managed to not burn many and by the time Bobby came into the kitchen in search of coffee, Sam had quite a stack of pancakes that he was trying to figure out how to move to the table. “Let me help.”

Bobby took the plate and set it in the center. “You okay?”

Sam smiled. “Just making breakfast for Dean. He’s been so concerned with me, I thought it would be nice.”

“He was just getting out of the shower when I came down.” Bobby said, moving to pull coffee cups out of the strainer. 

“There’s plenty, help yourself.”

Bobby got butter and syrup from the fridge and set them on the table while Sam flipped the pancakes in the pan. “Thank you Sam.”

“Well, consider it payback, after all the breakfasts you made for me and Dean.”

Bobby froze and turned to him. “You know you don’t owe me anything, Sam.”

Sam inhaled sharply. Already his ability to pretend was being shown for what it was. The sound of pain in Bobby’s voice cut through him. “I mean, if anything I owe you…you and Dean…”

“Bobby, I—“ Sam took the skillet off the flame, and turned on his crutches. “You have nothing to – for god’s sake Bobby.” Sam didn’t know what to say…how to console the grief or placate the need he could hear in Bobby’s voice.

Bobby was shaking his head. “No, Sam.” Bobby turned to face him. “If I’d been a better father, if I’d seen what was happening…Robert would have gotten the help he needed…he wouldn’t have…done this, hurt you.”

“Fuck Bobby.” Sam struggled over to the table. He didn’t want to deal with this…here was the man whose son had shown Gorlian how to take Dean, how to break him, and demanded Sam in payment…whose son Sam had shot in cold blood…and he was blaming himself. “It isn’t your fault. Robert was…sick. None of us saw it and me and Dean saw him nearly as much as you did.”

Bobby hung his head, still holding the butter. “He thought he loved you.” Bobby sighed heavily. “How could I not see that? I know more about you and Dean than I do my own son.”

Bobby sat down at the table and Sam followed, sinking into a chair. There were no words. Sam’s eyes fell on the pancakes. “Dean tells me that I need to eat, and that if I pretend I’m okay, one day I will be. Maybe…you could try that. Eat something?”

Bobby managed something like a smile and reached for the plate of pancakes just as Dean came into the room. “You cooked.” Dean said and Sam grinned.

“I did. Let me get the last of them.”

“I should call Dad.”

“And Gabe.” Sam said as he hobbled back to the stove. “There’s plenty and I have bacon too.”

 

Ellen woke as they crossed into Texas. Caleb glanced her way and offered her a cup of coffee. “It’s probably mostly cold.”

“It’s okay.” She took it and sipped, making a face, but swallowed anyway. She stretched as much as the small space of the passenger seat would allow. “You okay? Need me to drive?”

“I’m good.” They were quiet for a long minute before Caleb cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking.”

Ellen waited, looking at him. “Are you sure we should do this….I mean without help?”

“I have an idea how he thinks. He won’t suspect me.” She looked out the window at the blurry landscape. “He thinks of me as little more than the woman who seduced his brother. Never put much stock in women…thought of them as a distraction, a way to work off the energy.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow as he glanced at her. “Obviously, he didn’t get to know you.”

She smiled tightly. “No, Bill kept him away. And when he was around, he ignored me, while I watched him.” She shifted in her seat. “We should stop in the next town, stretch our legs, get some fresh coffee.”

 

Sam left the others to clean up after breakfast and hobbled out to the porch, lowering himself onto the wicker chair and lifting his leg with both hands to prop it up on the railing. It throbbed from the activity. He rubbed at his thigh, above the cast. With all the other injuries, he could work past the pain, pretend like Dean wanted. The leg though…it branded him as injured, an invalid. It weakened him, took him out of the fight.

It was what kept his father there in that cabin instead of being out there taking care of Gorlian.

The door opened beside him and Dean came out to sit beside him. “You okay, Sammy?”

Sam nodded. “Sore. But okay.”

“I can get you something.”

Sam shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Sit with me?”

Dean smiled and sat down in the chair beside Sam’s. “It’s a nice day.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam toyed with the ring on his finger. He still wasn’t used to it…but it was a connection to Dean…to their father. “I think we should tell Dad to go after Ellen.”

Dean frowned at him. “What?”

Sam grimaced and rubbed harder at his thigh. “He wants to, you can see it. He doesn’t know what to do with us…especially…now…you know?” He reached for Dean’s hand and held it.

“You mean now that he knows about us?” Dean asked, letting Sam pull his hand into his lap.

Sam nodded. “I think it would be easier…for both of us…and him.”

Dean was quiet for a long time, and when he spoke his voice was soft. “The last time he left us alone, Robert came and took you away from me.” 

Sam looked at him, trying to see past the blank expression and down turned eyes. “Robert is dead.”

“But the others aren’t. They’re still out there Sam.” Dean drew in a shaky breath and raised his face. “What if they come? What if they’re just waiting for him to be gone? What if they took you away…or me? What if they took us both and we never see each other again?”

Dean shook his head. “Could you handle that…all of that…again?” He stood up and paced away to the door, pulling the heavy oak door shut behind the screen door. “I-I don’t think I could do it again Sam.”

“Dean, no one knows where we are. No one is coming for us.”

Dean frowned and shook his head. “No? Like Tulsa? Like Bobby’s?” He came to kneel by Sam’s knee. “A new master, Sam. They’d start from scratch. Lock us up in the dark with the voice…beat us with the paddle and the lash and the crop…rape…over and over until you can’t feel anything…and all you can taste is the come in your mouth…until it’s all numb and you can’t remember your name or what it was like before the cage…” Dean’s hands closed around Sam’s wrists. “And then, when you can’t fight and you can’t remember…when they’ve taken everything and you really are nothing…they go at it just a little longer until you’re not even that…until you can’t feel the dick in your ass, can’t cry…can’t think…until you’re blank…less than nothing…”

“Dean….please stop.” Sam groaned, but Dean couldn’t hear him. He pulled harder on Sam’s wrists.

“That’s when they start giving you things….they give you rules to follow…instructions…and you do them…because there’s nothing else…you don’t think…you just do….They say kneel and you kneel. They say open your mouth, and you do it. They say bend over and you spread yourself for them….because at least its something…and maybe when you’re good enough you get rewards…when master likes what you’ve done, how you’ve behaved, you might get a treat, or to service him….because that’s what good slaves are…invisible…you disappear, Sam….and no one ever knows where you’ve gone…and no one rescues you…”

“You rescued me.” Sam said through his tears. Something in Dean’s voice, in his desperate words, and the way he was holding him had Sam achingly hard…inappropriately aroused. He tried to pull free, but Dean held him.

“I can’t Sam…I can’t…”

“Dean, you’re hurting me.” The harder he squeezed Sam’s wrists, the harder Sam’s cock was getting. “No…just, fuck, Dean. Let go!”

Dean seemed to snap back into himself and released Sam, pulling back and standing up. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to…I mean…He can’t leave us, Sam. I can’t go back there.”

“It’s okay Dean. We don’t have to say anything.” Sam rubbed his wrists and dropped his hands to his lap to hide his body’s reaction. It was wrong in so many ways. It wasn’t fast enough to hide the bulge from Dean though.

“Sam?”

He shook his head. “Just…leave it Dean. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He could see warring emotions on Dean’s face. There was a flash of anger, and compassion and confusion. “No, you promised me you’d tell me. It’s good, Sam.”

Sam looked away and palmed his cock through his pants, trying to make it go down. “No…it’s wrong.”

Dean’s hand was on his face. “Dad told me it was natural…that it was okay.”

“Not like that. You grabbed me…you said those things…it’s just wrong…and I need…I need to be alone.”

“Sam. Look at me.” It took a minute, but Sam looked up at him, wiping tears from his eyes. “Do you remember the night I finally understood? When I realized what you wanted? You kissed me, remember, and pressed up against me, and you got hard. You were so embarrassed, so afraid. Kept telling me it was wrong and you shouldn’t want it.”

Sam nodded slowly as Dean sank back to his knees. He slowly put his hands on Sam’s thighs. “Do you remember what I told you?” Dean’s hands slid up and inward and Sam caught his breath.

Dean was looking up at him and his face was suddenly so much like _Dean_ …and some part of him knew that this was Dean pretending…and some part of him just didn’t care. “You told me wrong shouldn’t matter.”

Dean nodded. His hands reached the crease of Sam’s legs and paused. “Why?” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Sam’s lips. 

“Because we’re Winchesters…and our lives are different.”

Dean’s lips moved over Sam’s jaw line. “Wrong is for normal people Sam.”

Sam moaned and pulled back. “But…this is different Dean. You…were talking about r-rape.” He drew in a deep breath. “You were holding me down. I shouldn’t get hard…Not like that.”

“I like that my touch arouses you, Sam.” Dean whispered, paraphrasing words Sam once said to him. “I like that you are able to feel this.” His hand slipped down to cup his cock through the sweats.

Sam started and breathed through the panic. “Dean…someone’s gonna see. It’s…we should…”

“Want to Sam. Is it okay? Can I make it feel good?” His fingers strummed over his length, and Sam shifted, tilting his hips forward and spreading his legs. Dean’s lips traveled over Sam’s chin and down to his neck. 

“Dean.”

“I’ve got you Sammy.” Dean’s hand was inside his pants now, holding his cock, caressing it slowly. “Just me, right Sammy? You and me…”

Sam’s eyes rolled closed and he licked his lips. “Dean…please…”

“Tell me to stop, Sam and I will.”

“No…please…Dean…don’t….”

“Easy, baby…just go easy.”

Sam swallowed and thrust up into his brother’s hand. “It’s okay, Sammy…it’s okay…want you to…” Dean whispered as Sam whimpered and bit his lip. “It’s okay, Sammy. I love you. I love you.”

Sam shuddered and held Dean to him as he came, arching up off the chair. Dean held him and made comforting noises as the tremors faded. When Sam sat back, Dean pulled his hand free and flicked the strings of come into the bushes in front of the porch. 

Sam shook his head. He couldn’t figure out how they’d gone from talking about telling their father to go hunt to this. “Dean?”

Dean turned around, a vague smile on his face. “Yeah, Sammy?”

“You okay?”

Dean nodded. “I am, Sam. How about you?”

He shivered. “I think so. Can we…just sit for a while?” 

Dean smiled and leaned down to kiss him. “Anything you want Sam.”

 

Caleb stretched before he opened his eyes, stiffening up when the last of the open sores on his back brushed across the seat. He felt the car slowing, turning. “Where?” he asked, sitting up finally.

“We just made Austin. Thought we’d get us rooms, maybe some food. Then we can check out the target.” She pulled to a stop in front of a motel and got out to get them a room. Caleb climbed out of the car and wandered a little, turning to eye the long lines of billboards advertising restaurants and motels and tires. 

Ellen really did mean “just” in the “just made Austin” part of her statement. It was the kind of motel that sits on the outskirts of big cities, a place for late night rendezvous’ and truckers on long hauls. He still wasn’t entirely sure of this plan of Ellen’s though.

He eyed her through the office windows and pulled out his phone. Caleb chewed on the inside of his cheek, then flipped it open and dialed John’s number. “Hey, John. We’re in Austin. Just pulled in.”

“What do you two think you’re doing?” John asked and Caleb smiled.

“Ellen seems to think we’re going to take out Gorlian. Surprise him or something.”

“And you?”

Caleb shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride…watching her back, you know.”

“I’m sending Bobby and Gabe to back you both up.”

“Ellen would be pissed.”

“What would I be pissed about?” Caleb turned to see her behind him, looking irritated. 

“John’s sending reinforcements.”

Ellen stormed to him and pulled the phone from his hand. “You listen to me, John Winchester, if you leave those boys I will skin you alive.”

“Bobby and Gabe, Ellen. Not me. I’ve made a few calls and Allen and Joe and Gordon are working their way toward you too. They should stagger in, so it doesn’t tip them off. You make first contact.”

Ellen nodded, though she was thrown by his response. She’d expected more of a fight. “Okay. Are you sure though? Is Bobby ready for something like this?”

“He’s the one who suggested it.” John said. She could hear his discomfort with staying behind in his silence.

“Have them call when they get into town. Caleb and I will do a preliminary recon this afternoon.”

“Be careful.”

“You too.”

John hung up the phone and sighed, looking up at Bobby and Gabe. “She’s in Austin, like we thought.”

Bobby stood up from the table. “I’ll get packed.”

Gabe stood a little more slowly. “You sure you want me to go?”

John nodded. “You’re closer than your father, and they’re going to need the technical skills. You okay with that?”

Gabe nodded. “Yeah. I’ll get my things.”

The door opened and Dean held it while Sam hobbled in. Sam seemed…subdued, but Dean smiled at him. “Sam’s a little tired. I’m going to take him upstairs.”

“Before you do…come sit down, both of you.”

Dean looked a little confused by the order, but helped Sam get turned and headed toward the table, holding his chair while Sam sank into it.

“We found Ellen and Caleb. They’re in Austin.”

Sam grabbed Dean’s hand, squeezing it. John looked up at Dean’s face, but there was nothing to give away what he was thinking. “You want to go help them.” Sam said and Dean made a strange noise.

“Well…yes, I do.” John said, watching as distress registered on Dean’s face and Sam pulled him closer.

“Dean, it’s okay.” Sam coaxed Dean down to his knees beside him, slipping an arm around him. His other hand stroked Dean’s hair soothingly. “Dean and I talked about this earlier. He’s worried that if you leave we’ll be exposed, and we’re not exactly at our strongest.”

John nodded, watching Sam’s hand, watching the flash of silver on his hand. “I’m not going.”

Both of his boys looked up at him, clearly surprised. “I left you once when I thought you’d be safe. I thought hunting these bastards down was the most important thing. I was wrong.”

“Dad?”

John inhaled. “So, I’m staying here to take care of you boys. Gabe and Bobby are heading to Austin to back up Ellen and Caleb.”

“Gabe?” Sam frowned and his hand stilled on Dean’s head as Dean relaxed. “I don’t know…he’s…still pretty shook up…and he’s…what if he gets…grabbed?”

“Bobby will look after him. He’ll be fine.”

Sam nodded distractedly, then yawned. “Why don’t you get on up to bed, Sam? I’ll come up after I see them off, check on you.”

Dean helped Sam up and onto his crutches, but he stopped beside John as Sam went to the stairs. “Thank you. I didn’t want you to leave.”

“Not going anywhere, Dean.”


	32. Right There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellen and Caleb make a shocking discovery. Dean doesn't want to remember, but can't help it...and John tries...he tries hard.

The address for the complex of warehouses and office buildings was easy enough to find, and less than ten minutes from the motel. Ellen and Caleb took a first pass, then headed off to find stake out supplies and to refresh their med kit. 

Caleb looked up from the display of first aid supplies and froze. Beside him, Ellen loaded up their cart with bandages and ointment, unaware until Caleb grabbed her arm and turned them both quickly in the other direction.

“Caleb?” 

He shushed her with a hand and peered slowly behind them. He could feel the color drain out of his face and his hands shook as he walked them slowly down the aisle to the end. Only once they were out of eyesight of the aisle did he let go.

“What is it?”

Caleb closed his eyes and breathed deeply before looking around the corner one more time. “That man…” 

Ellen pulled him back and looked herself. He was tall, maybe 6 inches taller than Caleb, and big, broad shoulders and thick arms. She could see what made Caleb react, from the side he bore a striking resemblance to—then he turned and Ellen gasped, pulling back beside Caleb. “I thought he was dead.” She looked one more time to be sure, then pulled Caleb away, toward the door and the car. “He should be dead.”

“I can fix it.” Caleb said, reaching under the seat for a gun.

“No…not here. Think Caleb. Shooting him will only get us arrested.”

“That man supervised the men that raped Sam.” Caleb closed his eyes. “That man beat me and Sam and Dean. He dies.”

“I’m not arguing that, Caleb. But let’s be reasonable about it. He must have left the facility after turning Sam over to James, before we got there. He must be working here now. If we take him down now, we tip our hand. If we tip our hand, they’re gone. All of them. And we may never get another chance.”

Caleb opened and closed his fist over the gun. She was right. Of course she was right. Very deliberately, he put the gun back in it’s hiding place. “We follow then. Follow and watch, and when the time comes, I’m putting him down.”

 

Dean helped Sam settle into bed and got him some meds for the pain. Sam looked so small and young as he pulled the blanket up to his chin, his eyes stormy and downcast. 

“I’m sorry.” Sam said softly as Dean sat beside him. 

Dean frowned and brushed stray hair out of Sam’s eyes. “Why?”

“I didn’t think about…you…I mean, you went through this too…and I…forget sometimes.”

Dean shook his head as if to dismiss it. “I’m okay, Sam.”

Sam took his hand and held it. “I don’t think you are, Dean. I’m scared for you. You…block it all away and you pretend and it bubbles up and you remember and I see the fear and the pain in your eyes…and you need to…talk about it Dean.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “It’s better not to remember. Easier.”

“I don’t know how to forget.” Sam responded.

 

“You sure you want this?” Bobby asked, as they stood on the porch.

“No…but I can’t go with you. Not now. And now is probably all we’ve got.” John’s eyes tracked Gabe loading his bags into the car. “Just promise me that son of a bitch doesn’t get away.”

Bobby nodded. “You take care of those boys, John. I’ll call when we get there.”

John stood on the porch and watched them leave, then stood there a while longer. The skies were rumbling with the promise of more rain. He sighed heavily and considered his options. 

He had read some of the stuff Gabe had found, psychological studies of victims of rape and brainwashing. He knew it all called for getting them to talk, and that was something he wasn’t very good at.

 

Dean didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to think. Instead, he sat on the extra bed and stripped down the guns that were in the room. He lost himself in the ritual, soft cloth cleaning bits and laying them out on the towel, gun oil sharp on the air.

He didn’t want to remember, but he did.

_”Did you clean the guns?”_

_Dean looked up. His father wasn’t even looking at him as he asked the question, stumbling out of the bathroom where he’d been hiding for the last hour. “Doing it now,” he said, in a tone that clearly said that his father was an idiot._

_“Don’t get smart with me.”_

_“Yeah, why start now?”_

_John turned, anger crackling in his eyes. “I’ve had just about enough of you and this attitude.”_

_Dean slid the last part of the last gun in place and ran a cloth over the finished piece. It was his favorite, the one Sam had given him for his birthday. “Yeah? Maybe I’ve had enough of yours too.”_

_John growled and paced away. “Maybe you should leave like your brother did.”_

_Dean stood and tucked the gun and his cleaning kit into his duffle. “Yeah, maybe I will.”_

_He grabbed his room key and took off, out the door, ignoring his name in his father’s voice, ignoring that his father was following him. He stalked away, past the Impala, headed for the bar. John stopped following him as he passed between the Impala and the truck. Dean didn’t look back._

Dean cleared his throat and refocused on the gun in his hands. He didn’t see his father again for more than a year. That was the night it happened. The night he got drunk, got laid…and was taken by force.

_“Go head, bring daddy out here to watch me fuck you. Bet he’d like that wouldn’t he?”_

Dean shook his head. He should have yelled. Should have fought harder. He could feel the weight pressing against him, hands pinning him. _Nothing. No one. Alone._

They made it so he couldn’t fight. Put something in his drink, made his muscles loose and unresponsive. Pinned him. Made him helpless. 

Helpless.

He put the gun down and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to remember. He wanted it to stay down in the dark. “Fuck.”

Sam was restless on the other bed, whimpering lightly as if he too was reliving that first dark day. Dean turned away, putting his feet on the floor, though he didn’t stand.

There were flashes. Men, restraints, a van. Couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. Then dark. And the voice. _You are nothing. You are no one. You are alone._

Dean blinked at the tears. Didn’t want to remember, didn’t want to cry. 

Pretend. He was supposed to pretend.

_"As of this moment, you have no name. As of this moment you have no purpose. You are nothing. You are no one. You are alone. You belong to me. Everything that is about to happen to you is because I wish it to be so."_

He shivered, remembering the way his master’s voice had chilled him, how even then it struck a chord. Even then. When he was still Dean. He rubbed his eyes, forgetting for the moment that they were covered in gun oil. He remembered quickly enough as they started to burn and tear.

“Fuck.”

He staggered to his feet and moved toward where he thought the door was, but he hit the wall first, then stubbed his toe as he got the door open. He tried opening his eyes, but it only made it worse. With his arms out in front of him he stumbled to the opposite wall and felt his way down to the bathroom.

He got the hot water turned on and started with washing his hands. 

_”Always use water as hot as you can take it and soap. Scrub each finger tip, like this.” The older slave used a small brush and swirled it over the bar of soap, then in a circular motion over first Dean’s fingertips, then up over the nail. He worked slowly and methodically until Dean’s hands were pink from the heat and the scrubbing. “Rinse carefully. No soap should remain.”_

“Dean?”

_”My son, Dean. Pretty face, might be hard to break.”_

“No…its okay…I can make it okay.” Dean splashed the hot water up onto his face bending forward to direct it to his eyes. He felt his father move into the room…move behind him…his hands on Dean’s back. Dean shuddered. “No…no…just…got it in my eyes. Please. Let me make it okay.”

“Let me see.” John pulled him up, back and Dean’s ass brushed over his thigh.

“No!” Dean jumped away, grabbing for a towel. “Just…please.”

“Dean? What’s going on?”

_”On your knees, slave.”_

_“Dean.” He croaked the word, more on principal at this point. He didn’t have the physical stamina to fight much beyond that. He held on to two things; his name and his family. They would find him._

_“They aren’t coming for you slave. You are nothing. You are no one. You are alone.”_

_“Fuck you.”_

_“Not today, boy. Today it’s all you. On your knees.”_

Dean shook his head and pulled the towel to his face. He was panting, the memories firing randomly in his head. “You….I waited for you…I waited…and you never….you never came.”

He scrubbed his eyes with the towel and kept his face buried in the towel long after he’d dried them. “They…they did things to me…and I waited for you….I fought as long as I could…and they hurt me…but you didn’t come.”

His body shook and he was ashamed of what he was saying, but he could feel them…

_He’d lost track of the marathon. They came at him two at a time, one at each end, with beatings between. His knees screamed and his shoulders burned from the angle that his hands were bound. He’d been kept in the dark for hours…days…no sound, no light, no contact of any kind. He was never really sure if he was awake or asleep, sitting or laying down…then they were there and the lights were blinding and his body wouldn’t respond…and he felt disgusting, covered in come and slicked with sweat._

_“Sam.” It came out of him as the one in his mouth left him…and he couldn’t recall it. He got his face slapped for the trouble._

_The last one pulled out and he was dropped to the floor. “Dad. Sam.” He barely breathed the names, but earned a kick in the side that sent him coughing and cringing up against the bars._

_“Get used to it slave. No one is coming for you. No one ever does.”_

Dean sank slowly to his knees. “You didn’t come….they r-r-raped me, Dad…they took everything and I waited for you….they shoved things inside me…and…told me you would never come…I tried not to believe them….I tried…but I waited so long…”

John was on his knees now too, tears on his face to match Dean’s. His hands hovered inches from Dean’s head as Dean bent forward, holding his sides. “My god, Dean…I…I know….you were so strong. And I…I tried, but I couldn’t find you. Can I…please….I want to touch you.”

Dean shivered, but didn’t flinch as he felt his father’s hands on his head. “I don’t want to remember…I don’t want to…make it go away…make it stop.”

John’s fingers moved through Dean’s hair. “It’s okay Dean. Remembering is good.” It hurt, his words cut into John in a way nothing had. Like razors tearing jagged lines into his heart. “Can you…oh, god…Can you tell me?”

Everything said to get them to talk. Open up and admit what happened. Move through the grief, through the fear. Find the anger. 

“Don’t want to think about it…just want to…want to forget…”

“Do you remember at Bobby’s Dean? When you really remembered? You were angry. You tore up that room.” Dean sat up a little and looked at him. “You were angry. Tell me what you remembered then.”

Dean shook his head, but sat up and rubbed at his face. “Robert…when he told me he knew about me and Sam.” Dean sniffled. “I hit him. I hit him because I knew he was right. I’m a bad brother. And…Sam…I remembered…my first….and he was there going through it too. And you…god.” Dean swallowed hard. “I remembered when Sam bought me and what I put him through…what I became there…and how…”

“And now?”

“Sam…he…wanted to tell you to go find Ellen, go hunt…and I was afraid. I remembered hiding at Bobby’s while they raped Sam…while they took Sam away and you…you came, but you were too late…and I can’t lose him again…” He sighed heavily. “I remembered what it was like. At first. I was a smart ass.”

John smiled through his tears. “You always were.”

Dean rolled his eyes and shifted off his knees so that he was sitting with his back to the wall. “It wasn’t appreciated.” His breath caught in his throat as a memory flickered through him. “I thought if I could just…annoy them enough…hold on…Sam would come…you would come…But you didn’t.” He wiped his face on the towel again. “Sometimes they came at me all day…and sometimes they’d leave me sitting in the dark alone for days. Then for a while it was like clockwork, breakfast, fuck, rules, blow job, lunch, rules, fuck, dinner, lights out.”

They were quiet for a minute, then Dean sniffed again. “I was a virgin…in that sense. I’d never…you know. At least Sam didn’t have that.”

John moved so he was sitting to, pulling his flannel shirt closer around him. “Can you…tell me about that?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed and John couldn’t hold the look. “I mean, I’d like to know…how…why…because…I can see how much you two need each other. And Sam…he…was too worried I would blame you…just told me it was his fault. Can you remember that? How it started?”

Dean had to think about it. How does something like that start? “I was 18. Sam was 14…remember when he went out on that hunt with you and I was down with the sprained ankle and staying at Bobby’s? He bagged…what? A black dog? Or...something.”

John nodded slowly. “I remember you were angry because you had never gotten to go after one…and Sam took it down with one shot.”

Dean smiled vaguely. “Yeah…he…was excited. I was out in the yard. There was an old car there we liked to hang out in…and he…kissed me. I thought he was crazy or something…brushed it off, you know? After hunt energy and all that.”

“But it was more?”

Dean made a face, something like discomfort. “Not for a long time. It was the next summer. I kept catching him watching me…and he kept trying to tell me something. Then I found him out in the car at Bobby’s. He’d stolen a six pack out of Bobby’s fridge and was half way through it. I figured he was safe enough there with me to watch out for him and if he wanted to puke his guts out in the morning I wasn’t going to stop him.”

“You let him get drunk at 15?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Please, I was 14, and it wasn’t beer it was Jack I stole from you.”

John chuckled. “I was twelve. Took a bottle of wine from my grandma’s wine cellar.”

“Sammy, he’s a sloppy, romantic drunk. Started talking about how he loved me…and there was kissing…and he groped me, like he was trying to figure it all out. I was confused, but hell if it didn’t feel incredible.”

“It was almost a week later that I put it all together.” Dean lowered his eyes and drew his knees up to his chin. “I can be a little slow about these things, you know? He was enjoying the inch he had on me…and playing around, then he was kissing me, and the next thing I knew he was hard…It…just felt right.”

“Right?”

Dean shrugged. “It was wrong…it was dirty and perverted and wrong…and nothing has ever felt more right. It took a long time…it was slow. It wasn’t something we just jumped into, and we both tried to have other relationships. Hell, Sam even left because he thought I was only doing it to make him happy and he wanted me to have the choice.”

“And you wanted him?”

Dean nodded. “Why do you think I was such a bitch to you after he left? I couldn’t tell you. You…you wouldn’t have accepted it like this then.”

“Not sure I accept it now, to be honest, Dean.” John held up his hand. “I’ve accepted that you two love one another and that it pales in comparison to the rest of this shit. That’s going to have to be enough for now.”

“Okay. It’s more than we ever expected.”

“And we probably should minimize the number of people who know about it. Right now its you boys and me and Bobby.”

“Believe me, not something we’re advertising.”

“Then I expect you won’t be repeating that performance on the porch?”

Dean ducked his head and blushed. “You saw that?”

“Heard it. The kitchen window was open.”

They sat quietly for a minute, then when Dean spoke again his voice was quiet. “The first night, after we fought and I stormed out…I was right there…I could see the motel door. If I had just yelled a little louder, or walked a little faster, been a little less drunk…You would have known…you could have helped me.”

“I know you feel like you’re to blame, Dean…but you’re not. Okay? I mean…you were overpowered. Gabe’s research shows that their abduction crews are at least five people strong, and bigger when the prize is bigger. They probably had someone in the bar, maybe even two and at least five grabbing you and who knows who else. They planned it carefully. Even sober I don’t think you could have fought your way out of it.” John reached across to Dean’s nearer knee. “And if I’d heard and come out to help you, I’d be dead now…you and Sammy would be…gone…and no one would ever know what happened.”

And as true as that was, it didn’t make him feel any better about saying it. “I noticed you were cleaning guns. You want to go downstairs and work on the rest with your old man? Let Sam sleep?”

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”


	33. A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John begins to see Dean as he really is, and it shakes him. Sam realizes he can't remember how he broke his leg, and is afraid that means something more is wrong. Gabe comes up with a plan...

Caleb stopped the car and watched in amazement as Thomas got out of his own car with a bag of groceries and was met by a woman in a blue dress and two boys calling him “Daddy.”

He swallowed a heavy lump and looked at Ellen who shrugged. “A man can do…what he does and come home to this…like it’s normal?”

Ellen leaned around him to watch the big man kiss the woman then usher them all inside. “It changes things.”

Caleb shook his head. He wanted to say that it changed nothing, but he knew that it did. It wasn’t a straight black and white mission any more. Kill the men who did this, destroy the organization. He’d kept them faceless, automatons, men with no existence outside of the context he knew them in. 

It was the only way he knew to reconcile the killing. Now he was face to face with the man who beat him, who gave him the marks that still lay purple and green and red on his back…and his family.

“What do you want to do?” Ellen asked and Caleb had to shake his head.

“Refocus. Let’s head back to scope out the complex, get the lay of the land. When Gabe gets here we’ll set him up researching the company and it’s local presence, see if we can work out what Gorlian’s cover is here.”

 

_”They…they did things to me…and I waited for you….I fought as long as I could…and they hurt me…but you didn’t come …”_

John’s eyes burned as he watched his son but the rifle back together. His face was a mask of concentration, his eyes flicking lightly over the pieces as his hands moved confidently over them. It was a direct contradiction to the little boy voice in his head, accusing him. 

_“You didn’t come….they r-r-raped me, Dad…they took everything and I waited for you….they shoved things inside me…and…told me you would never come…I tried not to believe them….I tried…but I waited so long…”_

He cleared his throat and tried to push it away…but pushing it away had been what got him here in the first place. He’d ignored Dean’s pain when he could have eased it. He hadn't seen how he was hurting over Sam leaving, cause he was too caught up in his own. He’d never realized why Sam left because he couldn’t get past the pain of his losses, couldn’t see how much his boys needed one another…and how he’d done everything to push them at one another while at the same time driving the wedge between them. 

Dean looked up at him, as if feeling his eyes, or his thoughts or…just expecting something. He looked like Dean…his eyes lightly guarded, his tongue just barely protruding from his mouth just before he smiled. John closed his eyes, because it wasn’t Dean…not the Dean he lost that night outside that motel.

He opened them again quickly. He looked like Dean. He acted like Dean. But he wasn’t Dean. It was almost as if he was…pretending. 

Pretending. 

_“No…its okay…I can make it okay.”_

John got up and paced away. Dean wasn’t better. Not like he’d thought. The breakdown in the bathroom was his conditioning conflicting with his memory…and despite getting him to talk, Dean was still pretending.

_“I don’t want to remember…I don’t want to…make it go away…make it stop.”_

Dean finished the gun and set it down on the table. “You okay, Dad?”

John looked back at him and nodded distractedly. “Yeah, Dean. I’m okay.”

“Can I make you some lunch?”

John shook his head. “No Dean. I don’t think so.” Dean was looking at him funny now, and John wasn’t sure what to do now that he saw what Dean was doing. “I’m…going to make lunch. It’s my turn.”

“I don’t mind.” Dean started to get up but John shook his head. 

“No. Today I’m going to take care of you.” John heard himself say. Like he should have been doing all along. “What do you want to eat, Dean? Anything at all.”

Dean looked confused, like he didn’t understand the question. “Well, Sam should have something substantial. He ate a pancake—“

“No, Dean. You. What do you want? Not Sam. You.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know…I’ll eat whatever.”

John crossed to him. “I know you’ll eat whatever I make, Dean. That isn’t the point. I want to make something you want to eat.”

Dean’s forehead crinkled while he thought about it. “I…I liked the lasagna Ellen made.”

John nodded. “We have a little left over. I can heat it up. Why don’t you go watch tv or read a book or something.”

Dean stood, reaching for the rifle. “I’ll just clean up first.”

John took the rifle and shook his head. “No, I’ll do it Dean. Wash your hands and go relax for a while. I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

Dean still looked confused, frowning first at the rifle, then John, but he went to the sink to wash his hands. John watched while he started the oven and pulled the lasagna out of the fridge, watched until Dean left the room, headed for the living room. 

He was shaking as he set the pan of lasagna in the oven. Shaking because he was just beginning to realize that his son was far more broken than he knew how to care for…and that maybe Sam had been right when he’d said that it might be more than they could fix themselves. 

And that didn’t even touch Sam and what he needed.

 

Sam woke slowly to the sound of rain and the sense that for the first time in a long time he was alone. He opened his eyes in the half light and confirmed the sense. There was a little panic, but he shook it off and sat up. 

The quiet was nice. He pulled himself back against the headboard and closed his eyes. He felt so pulled when Dean was in the room. Dean, who wanted him to be okay, and Sam couldn’t help but pretend for him…because he could see the relief in Dean’s eyes when he did.

The truth was though that Sam knew he wasn’t okay. 

There was a giant hole inside him, a blackness that could swallow him whole if he let it. And there were times he wanted to let it. He craved it. To fall into the dark and just let go. So he wouldn’t have to see that look on his father’s face…the pity and disgust and helplessness…So he wouldn’t have to feel the hands and cocks and beatings…So he wouldn’t hear Robert’s voice in his head anymore. 

_“My poor baby,” Robert’s voice whispered. “I wish there were some other way.”_

Sam shook his head. He hated how helpless he was in this whole thing. How efficient they were in making him helpless. The apparatus in the van…it immobilized him, even his head. The drugs, the restraints…the physical exhaustion…and now the leg…

He ran a hand over the cast. Under it his leg throbbed, ached from the standing on it earlier. He slipped one long finger under the plaster to rub at itchy skin. As he did, it occurred to him that he didn’t know how he’d broken it.

He froze. He thought he remembered everything. He thought he’d made it through without breaking…not like Dean…he’d given up, but…he remembered himself…everything that happened. 

Sam tried to calm the bubbling fear and turned his attention to things he did remember. He remembered Dean, kneeling beside Dean in the dark, waiting. He remembered James and Robert. He remembered the rack and James cutting into him.

His blood was hot as it slipped over his skin, as James cut him and it was Robert who spoke…Robert who made him stop.

_“Stop. Just…Let me take him and go. Deal with the other one anyway you want…but stop.”_

Robert who saved him from more. Even Dean had obeyed him. 

_“Dean. Get your brother out of that contraption.”_

_Dean looked at James, then at Robert. “Now!”_

_Sam was shook, whimpered as Dean’s hands slid down his legs to the cuffs and pushed the release, slowly moving Sam’s legs together until he was standing._

Dean had let Robert take him. Robert’s hand had claimed him, curling over his hip…and that was the last thing Sam remembered before waking up in the motel room with Dean.

He’d been walking then, so the break had to come after that…sometime between that moment and Dean’s voice…

_You okay, Sammy?” Dean’s free hand stroked Sam’s face and Sam nodded._

_“’M okay, Dean. Hurts…but okay.”_

_Dean kissed his cheek. “He won’t touch you now. Won’t touch anyone.”_

Sam shook his head. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes. He hated them. There was a soft knock on the door and his father came into the room. 

“You okay, Sammy?” he asked, unconsciously mirroring the words Dean had whispered to him.

Sam couldn’t answer for a minute and John came to sit next to him on the bed. “What is it?”

“I can’t remember.” Sam gasped out. “I thought…I thought I could…that I was okay…but I don’t know Dad.”

John’s big hand moved to brush hair out of his face and Sam cringed. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” He grabbed his father’s hand and held it to his chest. “It hurts. I don’t remember how it happened. I don’t remember.”

“Its okay Sam.” John said it softly, though he obviously didn’t really know how to help Sam. “What is it you don’t remember?”

Sam licked his lips. “My leg. I don’t remember breaking my leg, Dad. How? How can I not remember?”

John shook his head. “I don’t know Sam. I don’t know how either. Maybe Dean—“

“No. Just…No. I don’t want him to know.” Sam blew out and tried to quell the unreasonable panic. “He needs to think I’m okay. I need to be okay so he doesn’t…” He closed his eyes. “I was on my feet. Robert was going to take me away. Then…then…I don’t know. There’s just…empty…there’s noise and pain…and then nothing.” 

“Easy Sam. I’m sure it’s nothing. It will all come back to you.”

Sam shivered. “No…” His father didn’t understand the significance, why he had to remember. “When you stop remembering…that’s it…that’s when they have you.” Sam whispered. 

John pulled on his hand, pulling Sam’s hand to his chest and making Sam open his eyes. “They don’t have you Sammy. I do. I’ve got you. I’ve got you and Dean both.” 

 

Gabe and Bobby made decent time, and when they pulled into the hotel where Caleb and Ellen had set up, Gabe felt a little more at ease over the recent turn of events. He got set up quickly enough, hacking a local wi-fi and scoping out the local scene. When Bobby came out of the shower, Gabe got up to take his. He’d been shaken more than he would have said by John’s suggestion that he come to Austin with Bobby. While a part of him wanted to be in on the action, the part of him that realized why his father had kept him out of it, the part of him that still shivered when he remembered the sight of Caleb on his knees taking a beating for Sam, had been terrified at the prospect of getting this close.

But now, he could see his place here, and he let his father’s training guide him. When he emerged from the bathroom, Ellen and Caleb had returned with food. He took his and retreated to the computer while the older hunters talked. He checked the information he was compiling and when there was a lull in the conversation he cleared his throat.

“It looks like Gorlian’s primary office is a real estate office. It’s in the prominent building on the west side of the complex.” He pointed to the rough drawing Caleb had made. He handles industrial properties according to his website.”

He swiveled back to the computer and brought up a new page. “This is Gorlian industries, the big umbrella corp that hides a lot of other stuff. The real estate office houses their offices too…and the warehouses and stuff around the rest of the complex are listed in various names, including some we’ve already seen on other listings. These two…” He pointed at the drawing again, “…are most likely our targets. They’re listed as Ablian Imports and Derringer Exports.”

“But Michael—Gorlian, is likely in his office.” Ellen countered.

Gabe nodded. “We’re gonna have to split up.”

Bobby shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

Caleb paced away and back again. “I don’t either. It’s…too big.”

Gabe nodded. “I know. I have a plan.”

 

Dean was beside himself.

His father had fed him lunch, but wouldn’t let him help. Wouldn’t let him clean up. Wouldn’t let him go check on Sam. Told him to relax. 

Not wait. Dean could wait. 

Not sit or stand or lay down or sleep. Dean could do those things. 

Relax. 

As if Dean understood what that was. “Do something you want to do. Or do nothing,” he had said. 

Dean stood in the center of the living room of the cabin and chewed on his lip in frustration. It was confusing. He paced a little, then came back to standing. Something he wanted to do.

He wanted to make his father happy. He wanted to take care of Sam. He wanted to be good.

He stopped and thought about that. His father would be happy if he did something he wanted to do. If he did something that wasn’t taking care of someone else. The rain was letting up. Cautiously Dean went up the stairs, pausing outside Sam’s door. He knocked and waited until his father answered.

“I think…maybe I could…go for a walk?” 

John smiled. “That would be good Dean. Take a jacket, okay? And Sam’s cell phone. It’s on the table down stairs. Just in case you get lost.”

Dean nodded. It felt better to have a plan. Something to do. Even if he had to think of it for himself.

 

“A plan?” Ellen asked cautiously, turning to face Gabe.

He nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going to need a day to prep, and Gordon should be in town by the time I’m ready.”

“You?” Bobby crossed his arms and scowled at Gabe.

“Hear me out.” Gabe pointed at the screen, which was now flashing with security footage from the assault on the facility where they’d found Sam and Dean. “Of all the people we’ll have on hand, only Ellen and I don’t appear in any of these pictures. You can be guaranteed that Gorlian knows your faces. And, if he is who Ellen thinks he is, he’ll know hers. He doesn’t know mine.”

Ellen stood up. “No. Right there, Gabe. No. Whatever it is you’re thinking.”

Gabe stood too, determination and anger crackling in his eyes. “I’m in this just as much as anyone else, Ellen. I’m an adult with two college degrees. I may only be eighteen, but I’m smart, and I know what I’m talking about here.”

They stared eye to eye, Gabe’s heart pounding in his chest. “I can do this.”

“Do what, Gabe?” Caleb said, placating Ellen with a hand on her arm. “Let’s hear what he has to say before we shut him down.”

“Okay….so from what I can tell, there’s one sure way in to see Gorlian. Like I said, it’s going to take me doing some prep work, most of tonight on the computer, a few hours of shopping and stuff tomorrow.”

He took a deep breath. “James had a son. The files I pulled off the computers where his. He was preparing a bid on one of the lesser Gorlians. His son is my height, a little heavier than me, but blonde. I’ll need to get some brown contacts and my hair cut. I can take the information in those files, make the bid James was going to make, with the added conviction of a son whose father was killed under Gorlian’s employ.”

“No.” Ellen said again, pulling away from Caleb and moving away. “We don’t know if he’s ever met the son.”

Gabe nodded. “No we don’t, but we do know the son has been attending a boarding school in Europe for the last three years. He’s eighteen, like me. The years between 15 and 18 change a man. Even if he knew the kid when he left, he’d be a different person today.”

“I still don’t like it.” Ellen said. “If I let you go in there alone, your father will have my head.”

“He doesn’t have to know.” Gabe said softly. “No one not in this room ever has to know.”

Bobby stood up too, coming to stand by Gabe. “I know you mean well, Gabe, but I have to side with Ellen on this. We can’t let you go in there alone.”

Caleb looked up. “He doesn’t have to.”

“What?” Ellen came back from the window, staring at Caleb.

“He can take me. Let me be his slave.”

“No.” Bobby and Ellen said it in unison. 

“James only handled the sex slaves…but they have other kinds. Sam’s research told us that much. James implied it when they caught me. Gabe can…I can be his, one he trained himself…show Gorlian how good he is at the job.”

“He’ll know you.” Bobby said. “From the footage if nothing else.”

“He’ll have seen me getting beaten. Nothing more. It will fit.”

Gabe was nodding. “I like it. Caleb can back me up if things get dicey.” He pulled his bag up onto the table and rummaged through it. “We’ll all take trackers, I’ve got more like the one Dean used. They’re good for up to 72 hours…longer if you don’t eat or drink too much.”

“Your father—“

“Isn’t here.” Gabe said forcefully. He sat back down at the computer and drew his legs up. “It’s this or we wait until we can gather the man power for a full assault. I think you know we can’t do that.”

The room was quiet and Gabe didn’t know if that was good or bad. He hadn’t expected the back up from Caleb, and when he met the older man’s eyes he had to be truthful that he wasn’t sure Caleb was up to the task he’d set himself.

But then again, Gabe wasn’t sure he was up to his own. “Gordon and his guys should be hitting town sometime tomorrow night. Ellen, and Bobby, you can find a way into the warehouses…find out if they’re housing more than shipping crates.” Gabe found himself saying. “And instead of burning the place down, it’s time for a more permanent solution.”

Ellen and Bobby both looked at him. “If there’s enough evidence there, we take Gorlian…but it’s time to bring in the big guns. I’ve got contacts in the FBI. If I call them tonight they’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Are you sure about that, Son?” Bobby asked and Gabe shook his head.

“Sure? No. But we’re gonna kill ourselves if we keep at it like this. Or, we’re gonna get caught. We take Gorlian, let them clean up the rest.”

Ellen shook her head. “John isn’t going to like that.”

“John isn’t here, Ellen.” Gabe said, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. “We are. We have to make do with what we have. We have to make the decisions that will break the back of this organization. Gorlian isn’t even the top, we know that. I’ve been trying to crack it, and I don’t have the tools to do it.”

“John and his boys will never be safe until they’re all gone.” Caleb said softly. “I think it’s our only option.”

“I still don’t like it.”


	34. Dean and Sam and Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean starts the inexorable slide. Gabe cuts his hair and takes a stand. Sam has to face Dean falling apart without losing it himself.

Dean let his feet carry him away from the cabin, down the trail that Gabe had told him led to a stream. The ground was wet and his boots made squishy sounds as he went, sounds that reminded him of something he couldn’t place.

The air was cool and thunder rumbled off in the distance. There would be more rain before the storms passed. He couldn’t see the cabin behind him any more as the trail carried him down a hill. It was quiet here.

Dean wasn’t sure he liked the quiet.

He did like the smell. It was pleasant, not anything like the antiseptic nothing of the cage…or the smell of sweat and urine and come after they’d finished with him. He shook his head. He wasn’t going to think of that. He wasn’t going to remember that. 

Except he couldn’t seem to stop.

Dean found the stream and the boulder Gabe had told him would be there. Perfect for sitting and watching the water. Dean climbed up onto it and tried to calm the racing of his heart. It seemed that everything was a reminder today. The squishing sound came back to him as he picked mud off his feet. It was the sound they made after they’d been at him for a while, when his ass was come-filled and they kept at it.

He made a face and bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. 

The water ran fairly fast here, over rocks, slapping against the banks. Dean closed his eyes and tried not to hear it as the sound of leather against his skin…or the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

It came in pieces…incoherent flashes of things before he broke…before he gave up, gave in…Thomas and Razz and the others whose names he’d never learned. Beatings that left his throat bloody from screaming, yet left no scar, no permanent proof…except for one. His hand drifted to his chest, tracing the one scar through the material of his shirt.

_“This is my mark, so everyone will know that you belong to me. So that everyone will know that you are nothing, no one, alone.”_

Dean shivered. 

He remembered using his bound hands to lift himself off the floor and wrap his legs around the neck of one of the trainers. He remembered laying in puddles of bodily fluids whispering his own name to himself. He could hear his voice, raspy and broken repeating it. “Dean. My name is Dean Winchester. I am somebody. I am something. They will come for me. Sam will come for me.”

He lost his own name first though. Dean bled away into the endless incantation of _Nothing. No one. Alone._ …Dean disappeared under _Slave_ … Dean slid off into the dark long before he stopped fighting. In the end he didn’t really know why or what he was fighting only that it was important, somehow.

Important until his father’s voice had slid into that dark, shoving Dean further away with each word. _” My son, Dean. Pretty face, might be hard to break. Once you do though, he’s obedient. Trained him that way myself.”_

Obedient. 

Always obey. Obey Dad. Obey Master. But he hadn’t. Dean hadn’t always obeyed. Somehow he knew that. 

_”You’ve got a smart mouth on you Slave. Master says I should beat it out of you.” Thomas glowered over him, the whip in his hand._

_“You gonna talk about it, or just get on with it?” Dean asked, crawling up to his knees to offer up his back. “Come on tough guy…let’s see what you got.”_

Dean whimpered a little and drew his legs up close to his chest. He lost his voice once…from the screaming and the abuse and the constant whispers to himself when he was alone. 

“Dean.” He said it aloud, as if he was trying it on for size. It didn’t fit quite like it used to. “My name is Dean Winchester.”

He licked his lips and looked up. The sky was dark with clouds. He knew he should be going back. His father would worry. Wonder where he was. Come looking for him. 

_”I waited for you….I fought as long as I could…and they hurt me…but you didn’t come…_

 

Gabe felt a little nervous leaving the barber shop, couldn’t stop running his hand over his head. He’d never had his hair this short, not since he was in the fourth grade. It was his first rebellion against the geek image, the first expression of his personal style over his extreme intelligence. 

Long locks had always given him a place to hide when he was out of his depth socially, something to do with his hands, and a reason for the girls to see past his GPA. Now they were gone, the brash blonde highlights from years of tracking prey and training with his father left behind on the floor. In their place was a preppy, spiky hair style that made him look more like his ivy league classmates…well except for Sam. 

He sighed and shook off the feeling. It wasn’t like it wouldn’t grow back. He eyed the late afternoon sun and headed down the street toward the leather shop. With the addition of Caleb to his plan, he had more supplies to get, and he had another hour before he would meet the others out by the complex, go over their plans, lay out entry points, exit strategy. 

He’d had to leave the room once he got them to see it his way…had to get things moving. It was too hard to sit with them looking at him. They were right, of course. His father was going to be furious and John? Gabe shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about that. 

His cell phone rang and he reached for it, checking the caller id and cringing. He was expect Juliana or Megan to call him back after he’d left messages and faxed them some preliminary information. It wasn’t either of them.

“Hey Dad.”

“Don’t. Gabriel Bartholomew Barris, don’t you Hey me.”

“Ellen called you.”

“Damn right she did. I’m getting on a plane. I’ll be there tomorrow. Don’t you dare make a move into that compound. Do you hear me?”

“No Dad. Not this time. This is the right thing. I know it and Ellen knows it, she just won’t admit it. I’m going.” Gabe’s heart pounded tightly in his chest. In all his years he had never spoken back to his father. He only hoped his father would see that he was determined, and not hold it against him later. “I gotta go. I’m meeting the others in a little while. I’ll see you when you get here.”

He closed the phone and shoved it in his pocket, ignoring the vibrating that started almost immediately. His father didn’t have to like it. Gabe didn’t care.

 

Sam struggled out of the shower with his father’s help. Everything seemed so quiet without the others. He swiveled around on his good leg and let his father pull off the garbage bag and help him into a pair of boxers. “I’m good. I’ll come down when I’m done.”

“I’ll go start on some dinner.”

Sam watched him go, then turned to face the mirror. There were still dark circles under his eyes from the broken nose and his face looked pale and gaunt. There was a shadow of growth on his face. It made him look older.

He turned so he could see his back in the mirror. The dark black and purple was starting to fade away into dusky blues and greens and yellows. He could feel the stitches Bobby had sewn to hold the deepest of the wounds closed. The stitches were gone from his stomach wound, though he wasn’t sure who had done that. He sighed. His father had tried to convince him that the gaps in memory should be expected. 

Sam wasn’t sure he believed it.

Right now he was numb. It was better than the fear. Shaking himself out of that train of thought, Sam reached for his crutches and hobbled across the hall to his room to pull on the sweatpants his father had washed for him. And a t-shirt from his bag. He was nearly to the bottom of the stairs when his father emerged from the kitchen, a towel over one shoulder and a frown on his face.

“Was Dean upstairs?”

Sam shook his head. “I haven’t seen him.”

They both looked up as thunder shook the cabin and the lights flickered. John opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. “Dean!”

“Where would he go?” Sam asked, panic rushing into chase away the numb. “What if they found him?”

John exhaled heavily. “No one found him, Sam. He went for a walk.”

“We have to go find him.” Sam was nearly out the door.

“No. You’re staying here.”

“No. Dean needs me.”

“He needs you to be safe and not hurt yourself more. It’s pouring out there. The trails are muddy. You’d kill yourself.”

“Dad!”

“Sam. Just relax.” John pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He held it up to his ear after thumbing Sam’s number. “Dean?”

John frowned. “Dean? Where are you?” He shook his head at the look in Sam’s eye. He held out the phone to Sam. “Talk to him. I heard water, I think I know where he is.”

John grabbed his jacket as Sam put a shaking hand up to hold the phone to his ear. “Hey Dean, it’s Sam.”

He could hear Dean breathing, and the water his father said he’d heard. “Can you say something for me, Dean? Anything?”

“S-Sam?”

“Yeah baby, it’s Sam. You just hang on okay? Dad’s coming to get you.”

“D-daddd….he didn’t come…you did.”

“Not this time Dean.”

“C-cold, S-Sam.”

Sam closed his eyes and maneuvered himself out onto the porch. “I know. But Dad’s coming. We’ll make a fire, okay? We’ll roast marshmallows and have hot cocoa.”

It was quiet and Sam tried not to panic. “Dean? You there?”

“S-s-scared Sam…cold and scared.”

“Dad’s coming, Dean. I promise. This time he’s coming for you.”

Sam could hear their father yelling Dean’s name, both from the trail into the trees and through the phone. “Hear that, Dean? He’s coming.”

“I’m here Dean.” Sam heard through the phone. “I’m here. Can I have the phone?” There was fumbling then his father’s voice more directly in his ear. “Sam, I’ve got him. We’re going to need towels and blankets, he’s soaked and naked.”

“I got it Dad, just get him up here.”

Sam hung up the phone and set it on the table by the door before struggling back up the stairs to the closet where the blankets and towels were crammed in beside first aid supplies and equipment he didn’t recognize. He struggled a little with figuring how to get it all downstairs, but ended up just throwing the bundle down to the bottom and hobbling back down.

He could just make out his father, struggling in the mud carrying Dean. Sam swallowed the fear eating through him and went to the fire place. His hands shook as he set newspaper and kindling in and set a match to it. It took him three tries, but he got it lit and carefully fed slightly larger pieces of wood in. By the time he had a tidy blaze burning he could hear his father huffing with the effort of carrying Dean.

Sam got up and to the door, two towels in his hands as he pushed the screen door open. “God.” 

Dean’s lips were blue, and he was shivering. “I started a fire.” Sam said, draping one of the towels over his brother. John hefted him and moved closer to the fire before slowly lowering him until he was sitting on the floor. Sam nudged the pile of blankets and towels closer while John rubbed the first one vigorously over Dean’s skin. 

“Come sit behind him, Sam. The body heat will help.”

Sam nodded and slid onto the floor, moving behind Dean, with his bad leg off to one side. Dean’s skin was cold to the touch. Sam pulled his brother back against his chest, wrapping his arms around Dean while their father wrapped a blanket around Sam’s back, then around them both. Sam rubbed his hands over Dean’s skin, urging warmth back into him.

Dean’s teeth chattered and the sounds coming from him might have been words, but Sam couldn’t make them out. “Something hot to drink.” Sam said as John wrapped the second blanket around them. 

John nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. “It’s going to taste like sludge, but it’s hot.” He knelt in front of them and held the cup up to Dean’s lips. “Come on Dean, I need you to drink this.”

Dean jumped back away, but Sam’s closeness held him in place. “No.” He said through clenched teeth. “Dean. I’m Dean.”

Sam closed his eyes. “Yes, you’re Dean. You’re my brother Dean.” He whispered in his ear. “Dean Winchester.”

When he opened his eyes, his father’s face was confused and hurting. “Drink it for me, Dean? For your Sammy?”

Dean’s head was on Sam’s shoulder, as far from John as he could get it in his current position. “Sammy?”

“I’m here, Dean. I need you to drink it so we can warm you up.”

“No. Don’t want it.”

Sam sighed and pulled Dean against him. “It’s just coffee. I promise. Just a sip Dean. You’re so cold.”

“C-cold.” Dean repeated, then slowly he lifted his head, eyeing John with suspicion. “One sip.”

John nodded and held the cup up to his mouth again. Dean moved cautiously, licking his lips a few times before he actually moved to take a sip. He made a face and leaned back against Sam. “Hot.”

“Yeah, it’s hot. It’s good for you.”

“Tastes like shit.”

“Drink all of it and Dad will make you cocoa. You like cocoa, right Dean?”

“Cocoa?”

Sam extricated his hands from the cocoon of blankets and took the mug of coffee from his father. “Yep…if you drink this first.” He brought the cup down to the top of the blankets, where the heat radiating off of it could be felt against Dean’s skin. Dean’s hands came up to cup the mug. “That’s it.”

He looked up at his father. “I’ll get started on that cocoa.” 

Sam nodded. “Food is probably good too. You hungry Dean?”

Dean sipped at the coffee, grimacing, but swallowing. “No.”

“Well, I’m hungry.” Sam said as John disappeared into the kitchen. It wasn’t true, but right now he’d do anything to get Dean to respond. “You don’t want me to eat alone do you?”

Dean turned in the circle of Sam’s thighs so that he was facing the fire. “Dean,” he said again as if trying to convince himself. “Not gonna forget, Sammy. I say it every time I’m alone so I don’t forget. Dean and Sam and Dad. Dean and Sam and Dad. Not alone cause you’ll come for me. Me. Dean.”

Sam groaned and pressed a kiss to Dean’s neck. “That’s right Dean. You and me and Dad. Winchesters. Together.” 

Dean drank from the cup, leaning into Sam. “It was dark, Sammy. Dark like the trunk…remember hiding in the trunk? It was dark and I was alone. But I said it so you would know I wasn’t going to forget. Did you know, Sammy?”

Sam exhaled and tried to shake the trembling terror building inside him. Dean needed him. He couldn’t afford to fall apart now. “Yeah, Dean, I knew. I was trying to find you.”

The shivering was easing up and the coffee was nearly gone when John came back with a new mug in his hands. Steam rose up from it as he stopped in front of them. Dean cringed away from him, so Sam took the cold cup from him and reached up for the cocoa. “Dad made you cocoa Dean.” He settled the cup in his hands and shook his head at the question on his father’s face. He didn’t have a clue what this was.

Dean huddled down deeper into the blankets with his cocoa, leaning against Sam. “I got it, Dad.”

John shook his head. “Not leaving.”

Sam sighed. “He’s going to need to eat.”

“Got stew cooking.” Sam could tell his father was spooked, and seriously, he was too. He hadn’t seen Dean like this since…since he’d found him, since he’d bought him. How long ago was that?

Sam tried to ignore his father’s eyes watching him as he snuggled into Dean, kissing his cheek. “Better, Dean?”

Dean nodded, cradling the cocoa cup to him. He seemed dazed now, drifting. Sam looked up at the fire and shifted to reach enough to put a log in. Dean stiffened and clutched at him. “Don’t leave me Sammy.”

“Not going anywhere Dean. Just gonna put a log on the fire, okay.”

“You were gone so long.” Dean whispered. He didn’t look up. “I waited for you to come home.”

“I know, baby…but I’m here now…Okay?”

Dean shook his head. “No. It isn’t okay. I was alone. I was all alone.”

“But you’re not alone now, Dean. Dad and I are both here.”

“They made me not me anymore, Sammy.” Dean whispered into Sam’s chest. “Not me…not right…alone….and I waited for you to come.”

“I know Dean.” Sam could only hold on to him…he had nothing he could say to the quiet accusation in his brother’s voice…he could only wrap his arms around him and hold him close and hope it was enough.

 

Gabe let the others work on the exit strategies while he worked the computer, creating false trails all over the world for the young man he was going to impersonate. He was attending school in London, and Gabe managed to get a hold on his passport, so even if he tried to leave the country, he wouldn’t be able to.

He set up one false trail into Asia, and another into Africa, then the one that mattered, from London to LA, and LA to Montana. He looked up when Ellen dropped a bag of take out next to him and said “Eat.”

“You shouldn’t have called him.” 

“He should be here.” Ellen countered, taking her own bag across the room. “I don’t like this. He don’t like it. You aren’t going in there.”

“You have something better?”

She didn’t answer him, just turned away and started eating.

“Yeah, when you do I’ll consider not going.” Gabe said, turning back to the computer. He still had a lot of work to do…and with his father coming, he had to do it fast.

 

“You sure you want to go through with this?” Bobby asked as he leaned against the rail outside the motel room.

Caleb held a leather collar in his hands, turning it over and over. He shook his head. “No. I’m not. But I won’t let him go in there alone.”

“Maybe Ellen’s right. Maybe we shouldn’t be letting him go in there at all.”

Caleb nodded slowly. “Maybe. But the only way we’re stopping him is if we tie him down to the bed.”

Bobby shrugged. “I’m sure we got rope.”

Caleb smiled. “I was kidding.”

“I’ll bet Allen would rather we tied him down than let him go.”

“He’s right about one thing, Bobby. He’s a man, not a boy. He knows what Gorlian is capable of. It’s got him spooked something awful. He needs to do something.”

“I don’t think that something is getting you killed.”

Caleb sighed and shook his head. “No. We’ll be fine. You guys have our backs.”

“I’m hoping that back is in better shape than the last time I saw it,” a voice said in the dark and they both turned. Gordon and two others stepped out of the shadows. “Caleb. Bobby.”

“Gordon. You made good time.”

Gordon’s smile was eerie. “I hear I get to smoke out some bad guys, maybe cripple them? I’m here quick as can be. We got a plan yet?”

Caleb nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Come inside. We’ll talk you through it.”

 

John watched Sam sooth Dean by the fire. He couldn’t hear much of what was said, but he’d gotten an earful of it coming up from the stream. It was like some dam had busted and Dean’s head was just drowning in disconnected memory and bits of the conditioning. His words hardly made any sense…and even when they did they weren’t linear, jumping from childhood to the years without Sam to recent memories and back with no real connection.

It was dizzying and terrifying, and watching Sam…the tender way he spoke and touched…the instinctive way he knew when to pull back and when to not let go…John knew that look on Sam’s face. He’d seen it in Mary’s when she tended him while he was down with the flu. The concentration, the love…as if nothing else in the world existed but him and Dean.

He knew Sam wanted him to leave them alone, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. These were his boys…his broken, lost boys…except that there, wrapped around each other, as broken as they both were, they didn’t seem quite as lost. Sam’s eyes were closed and his forehead was leaning against Dean as they whispered to one another.

Then Sam’s hand was up, out of the blankets and reaching for him. John went slowly, sinking out of the chair and onto the floor, taking Sam’s hand and letting him guide him, first to touch Dean’s back. “Dad.” Sam said softly and Dean nodded, his hand reaching up and out for John’s other hand. As John slipped his fingers into Dean’s, Sam said, “Dean.”

John slid down to sitting, stretching his legs out to either side of Sam’s, encompassing his boys. Dean’s free hand slipped into Sam’s and he whispered Sam’s name. Sam nodded. “Dean and Sam and Dad.”

John whispered it back, leaning into Dean, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean and Sam and Dad.”


	35. Watch and Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe and Caleb get ready to take on the monster, Sam and Dean and Dad get a little help and a present of sorts...one that will change everything.

Dean was asleep, finally. They only managed to get him as far as the sofa, wrapped in blankets, his hand still holding Sam’s. The fire burned low, casting low light over Sam’s face as he stared into it. John raised his head looking around them. It had to be after midnight.

His arms and back ached with the effort it had taken to get Dean up the hill and into the house. It was nothing compared to the pain in his heart from watching him fall apart like he had.

“You should go to bed.” Sam said into the silence and John jumped. He sighed and turned his head to look at John. “It’s going to be bad for a while. We’re going to need to take turns sleeping.”

John nodded. He was right. “Sam…”

Sam shook his head. “It’s okay, Dad.” He sounded so tired, so drained. “I’ve got him for now. Go, sleep.”

Sam watched him leave and sighed again, his thumb caressing over the back of Dean’s hand. He leaned back against the couch, his head against Dean’s thigh. The last hours had been trying…between his brother and his father, Sam felt like he’d been dragged through broken glass.

Seeing Dean like that…watching him fall apart…it reminded Sam of how much Dean needed him in the beginning…only somewhere inside him, Dean knew. Sam could tell that.

“Sam.”

He shifted to look up at Dean. His eyes were open and locked on Sam’s. “Yeah, Dean. I’m here.”

He nodded. “Am I?”

Sam smiled vaguely and nodded. “Yeah, Dean.”

“Okay.”

Sam reached up to brush a hand over Dean’s face. “Sleep Dean. It’s okay. I’m here. Dad’s here. You’re safe.”

“My head hurts.”

Sam imagined it probably did. There had been hours of tears and sobbing and that was after the rain and cold. “I can get you something.” He saw the fear in his brother’s eyes, even though it passed quickly. “Just in there. I’ll talk to you the whole time.”

Dean nodded wide eyed and Sam worked at getting himself upright. He’d been on the floor for hours and his body ached. He reached for his crutches. “Okay, Dean. I’m just going to step into the kitchen. There’s aspirin in the cupboard.” He got to the doorway. “I’ll be right back, okay? Just listen to my voice.” Sam kept talking, as he reached for the bottle of aspirin and tucked a bottle of water from the counter into the waistband of his sweats before hobbling back.

“See, Dean? I came right back.” Sam lowered himself back down to the floor and opened the aspirin. “Two for now, okay? You can have more later if you need.”

“Thank you.” Dean said softly after he’d taken the pills and handed the water back. Sam caressed his face and leaned in to kiss him, just on the forehead.

“Love you, Dean. Love you so damn much.”

 

Allen Barris was not an easy man to ruffle, he was known for his patience, his cool head. His head wasn’t cool as his plane touched down in Austin. It was nearly noon. Nearly noon, and his son was on his way into the devil’s den, he knew it. Even though Ellen said they weren’t going in until the next morning. He knew Gabe.

He had his cell phone open and dialing before he was even off the plane, shouldering his bag and moving as quickly as he could through the throngs of people. “Damn it Gabe, answer your fucking phone.”

He made a face and headed for the parking garage. He didn’t have time to mess with a rental. He was going to have to steal something. He dialed a different number and this time someone answered. “Talk to me Ellen.”

“Gabe and Caleb are almost ready.” Ellen sounded defeated, tired.

“I’m on the ground. Buy me some time.”

“I’ve argued myself hoarse, Allen. He won’t hear reason.”

“Is he there?”

“Yeah, but he won’t talk to you.”

“I thought they weren’t going in until tomorrow.”

“Gorlian’s got a flight plan filed for tonight.”

“Shit.” He found a car that was fast enough and easy to get into. “Tell me he’s prepared at least. Tell me he knows what he’s doing? Tell me he’s okay.”

Ellen took a deep breath. “I—as long as Gorlian isn’t already on to us…he’s as ready as he can be.”

“Armed?”

“Two obvious pieces they’ll find when they search him. A hypodermic hidden in a pen.”

“A hypo?” Allen got the car open and tucked the phone against his shoulder as he reached under the dash. 

“Yeah. Part of his plan. We’re loading up. I have to go.”

“Ellen?”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of my boy.”

“I’ll try.”

Ellen hung up and scowled at Gabe and the hand he held out to her. On it there was a tiny tracker. “Your Daddy’s on his way.”

“Good. He’ll be helpful. Take the tracker.” Gabe’s voice was calm, mature. Ellen took the tracker and swallowed it and watched as Gabe pulled the hand held out of his jacket pocket. She had to admit, the boy looked good. The suit was impeccable. Deep navy blue over a pale blue shirt that made his eyes pop vivid and bright against his tanned face. He made a few adjustments and pinged each of the trackers before handing the device over to Gordon.

“Okay. I think we’re set. Caleb, you’re with me.”

Caleb looked up from his place next to Bobby, dropped his hand down off the collar and nodded. Gabe had dressed him in plain black, topped with the black collar. He followed Gabe to the car, the car he had gone to the airport that morning to rent, and couldn’t bring himself to look up at the others.

It was still amazing to him what the collar did. When Gabe first came to him, long before daylight, while the others stole what sleep they could, he hadn’t expected it. They talked about it, about what would be necessary, about how this would work and then Gabe had done it. Put it on him.

They both were still for a long moment. “Is it okay?” Gabe whispered, his hands already moving to unbuckle it, but Caleb had reached up, stopped him.

His voice didn’t seem to work at first. His head leaned slightly forward of its own accord and he felt his stomach clench up. “It’s…okay,” he’d said after a long pause, his hands running over it. “Leave it…for now.”

Yet when it came time to do it for real, Caleb almost couldn’t. Almost wouldn’t. But in the end, he’d dropped to one knee in the nearly empty motel room and let Gabe do it. Because it had to be him. Caleb had to let it put him in the right place, to put his head where it needed to be. Nothing could go wrong.

“You okay?” Gabe asked as they headed out and Caleb nodded. They’d agreed he would be silent, unless the situation warranted his speaking or yelling…or…Caleb turned away, looked out the window. 

They traveled in silence until Gabe’s cell phone rang and he lifted it, checking the caller ID before flipping it open. “Megan, tell me something good.”

Caleb watched him, watched the tiny changes on his face. “Yes, I’m serious. Where are you?” Gabe nodded, steering the car with one hand and glancing aside at Caleb. “Right. How many?” 

It was quiet in the car for a long minute, then Gabe nodded again. “Yeah, we’re all tagged…all but my father, but I left him one. You got the frequencies, right?” Gabe blew out a nervous breath. “Good luck.”

He closed the phone and smiled gamely at Caleb. “Who was that?”

“The Calvary.” Gabe responded. “Her name is Megan Fellows. She was my roommate’s sister. FBI.”

“They’re coming?”

Gabe nodded. “Oh, yeah. Apparently, the Gorlians have been under investigation before this for other issues. The higher ups have had their best and brightest going over our information since midnight and correlating it with their own. They’re coming. In force. Call Ellen or Bobby, let them know.”

 

Sam started and stretched when someone knocked on the front door, pulling himself up out of the chair and groaning as his back protested. He almost forgot the crutches and nearly fell on his face before he got himself straightened out and made it to the door. He peered out the window, because everyone who knew they were there were gone, but he smiled when he found a familiar face outside the door.

He pulled it open and hobbled out of the way to let the older man in. “Pastor Jim. I wasn’t expecting you.”

He stepped across the threshold and hugged Sam, then pulled the door shut. “Your father called me last night. Said you boys might need…someone.”

“I’m glad to see you.” He glanced over his shoulder, but so far Dean didn’t seem to be waking up. “Dean’s asleep, Dad’s upstairs. I think there’s still some coffee.”

Jim smiled. “Relax Sam.”

Sam nodded, suddenly self conscious. It wasn’t like they didn’t really need him. In fact, he had nearly called him when he’d first found Dean…when he first realized how bad it was. Obviously, Sam and his father were in way over their heads. “I take it Dad…told you?”

“He told me enough to get me to leave in the middle of the night and drive out here. Said it’d be best to get the rest from you two.”

“Dean…he needs…” Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know anymore what he needs.”

Jim crossed his arms. Sam could feel his eyes, but there wasn’t pity or disgust in them like he’d gotten used to. “What about what you need, Sam?”

Just like that Sam’s throat closed off and words failed him. He shook his head, cleared his throat. “No…Dean…he…it was worse for him.”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t bad for you.” Jim said softly. “I have counseled victims of sexual violence before Sam. I didn’t come here just for Dean, okay? I want you to think about that. I came here for you…and your Daddy too.”

Sam crinkled his nose and looked away, just to see his father at the bottom of the stairs. Sam ran a hand over his face. He was so tired and he just wanted it all to be over. He glanced over his shoulder at Dean.

He was awake, Sam realized with a start. He moved to go to him, but his father cut him off. “I’ve got him. You go get some sleep.”

“Dad, he needs me.”

“Yes, Sam he does. He needs you to not fall apart because you haven’t slept. He needs you to go sleep.”

If he was stronger, more awake, he might fight, but his father was right. “For a few hours. He needs to eat.”

“I’ve been a father a long time, Sam, I think I can manage.”

John sighed and turned to Dean, meeting his dark, guarded eyes with a soft smile before crossing to him and sinking slowly to one knee. “Hey.”

Dean’s hand fumbled up out of the blankets and ghosted over his father’s face. “You’re real,” he breathed, his eyes closing.

“Yeah Dean, I’m real.”

“You’re here.” Dean’s jaw clenched tight, his face screwing up like he was in pain, then slowly released until he looked almost peaceful. He grabbed his father’s hand and pressed it to his chest, over his heart. “Hurts.”

John wasn’t sure how he meant the word, but left his hand there against Dean’s chest, feeling the beating of his heart. “How can I make it better, Dean?”

“Dean.” The pained look was back. “Dean.”

John nodded, then pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead. “My Dean…my son Dean. Let me help you?” Dean struggled to sit up, so John peeled back one of the blankets and helped him right himself. Dean looked down at himself and cringed. 

“Naked.”

“Yes, Dean. It’s okay.”

Dean shook his head. “No. Dirty. Dirty. Can’t be dirty.”

“Okay, calm down. I can take you up to the bathroom, help you clean up.”

“No. Don’t want you to see.”

“Dean.” John trying hard not to get frustrated. “I’ve already seen—“

Dean shook his head again, vehemently. “No. No. Dirty. Bad.”

“John? Maybe I could help?”

He looked up at his friend, then back at Dean. “Would that be okay, Dean? If Pastor Jim helped?”

Dean eyed Jim up and down. “I remember you.”

Jim smiled softly. “I’m glad Dean. Will you let me help you?”

“I can do it.” Dean said petulantly. 

“Okay, how about if I keep you company then?”

Dean scowled at him and stood, using his father’s shoulder for leverage and holding the blanket tight around his naked body. He moved slowly to the stairs, then stopped and looked at Jim. “I’ll take that as an invitation.” Jim said, smiling at Dean.

He followed him up the stairs, careful not to touch him and let him move at his own pace. At the bathroom door he paused, letting Dean decide whether or not he was going inside. When Dean stopped and looked at the shower, Jim moved carefully past him and started the water. He held out his hands for the blanket, averting his eyes carefully as Dean let him take the blanket and stepped into the tub. 

Dean pulled the curtain closed, then peeked around it. “Thank you.”

“Anytime Son. I’m here to help.”

 

“This is it.” Gabe cracked his neck. “You ready?”

Caleb nodded, fingering the collar one last time. “Yeah, let’s get it done.”

They turned into the driveway and drove to the gate. A guard stepped out of the shack and approached. Gabe put the window down and produced a plain white business card with simple black lettering that said, “Master Maxwell James” and a phone number.

“May I help you, sir?”

Gabe bit down on his fear and leveled a glare at the man. “Maxwell James to see Mr. Marvin Gorlian, please.”

The man took the card. “I’ll see if Mr. Gorlian is available. Please wait here.” He was gone a few minutes and Gabe’s stomach twisted a little more with each minute. The guard smiled brightly and returned the card. “Mr. Gorlian is in a meeting at the moment, but if you are willing to wait a few minutes, he will see you.”

“I’ve come a long way to see him. A few more minutes won’t matter.”

The guard nodded and bent down to point. “When the gates open, take the right road, follow it to the visitor parking lot. Tell reception that you’ve been cleared to the 9th floor. You and your companion will be escorted to a room where you will be searched for weapons and recording devices, then you will be escorted to his office to wait.”

The gates opened and Gabe drove them through. He tried not to panic as the gates swung shut again. He was still in control. Everything was fine. Everything was fine.

 

The cabin was quiet. John was alone. Sam was asleep, Dean and Jim were upstairs, done in the shower, but not coming down any time soon. He’d called Jim in the middle of the night, in desperation. He hadn’t known what else to do. He didn’t know how to make things better anymore.

Sighing, John got up from the kitchen table to pace, then let himself out onto the porch. The sun was shining for the first time in days. If he wasn’t worn so thin, it might have offered him hope. 

He sighed and stretched, then his eyes fell on a box that hadn’t been there before. Plain brown and taped shut, with “Winchester” written in black marker across the top. John circled it warily, then squatted next to it. He looked up and around, scanning the driveway, Jim’s truck, the trees. There was no one in sight.

John weighed the options, and then picked it up. It wasn’t heavy and the contents rattled. Scowling, John carried it inside to the kitchen table. Everyone who knew they were there were in the house, or in Austin, getting ready to go after Gorlian. It didn’t make any sense. He chewed on his lower lip for a minute, then pulled his pocket knife out to open the box.

Inside were stacks of CDs…he pulled one out and looked at it. DVD, he realized as he opened the case. Unmarked, untitled…except for a tiny number on the front cover. 

“Dad?”

He looked up at Sam in the doorway. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

Sam made a face. “Dreams. Couldn’t sleep. What’s that?”

John shrugged. “I don’t know. It was on the porch.” He put the DVD back in the box. “One way to find out though.”

He carried the box into the living room and put it on the coffee table before turning on the television and DVD player. Sam settled into the chair as John put the one with the #1 on the cover into the player and turned it on.

The screen was black. John turned the volume up. There were strange sounds, whimpers maybe. Then Dean’s voice poured out of the speakers, screaming Sam’s name over and over.

Sam sat staring, shaking. Just as John moved to mute it, the sound stopped. A few seconds later a voice took it’s place.

“Now that I have your attention. I have a message for you, John Winchester. There are 25 DVDs in all. Somewhere in them is an important bit you may wish to relay to your team…before they get in over their heads. Watch them, see how powerful I really am. Understand what I have done…as long as you stay in that house I will leave you and your boys alone. As soon as you leave they belong to me. Get some popcorn and get comfortable. Your feature presentation will start soon.”

“Dad?”

John was breathing heavily. The screen lightened and the picture focused on a motel room door, then panned left. His truck filled the screen and the sound of a scuffle, then Dean pressed against the side of the truck, a man in the bed holding his head, two others holding his hands…a fourth pressed in tight behind him.

“D-Dennis.” Sam breathed. 

John paused the DVD and dug out his phone. “Come on Ellen, answer.”

 

Caleb fell into step two paces behind and to the left of Gabe as they got out of the car. He kept his head down, his hands holding the slick black folder that held Gabe’s information…and tried to watch their flanks. Gabe was nervous, he could tell, but doing a pretty damn good job of hiding it. He strode with confidence to the receptionist.

“Hello. Maxwell James to see Mr. Gorlian. The guard at the gate said to tell you we are cleared to the 9th floor.”

She smiled at him. “One moment, Mr. James. I’ll call upstairs.” She picked up her phone and spoke quietly for a moment before turning back to Gabe. “Someone will be down shortly. Please have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Gabe went to sit on one of the low couches and Caleb, after only the slightest hesitation, knelt on the floor beside him. Gabe’s hand came down on Caleb’s shoulder, half possessive, half calming gesture.

 

Ellen watched the rental car disappear into the compound and shook her head. She didn’t like this, and she wasn’t sure why. Part of it was Gabe. He was too young…too fragile…part of it was Michael. She didn’t know him well, but she knew Bill had been afraid of him that last year. 

Anything that Bill was afraid of deserved to be treated with caution.

She jumped as her phone rang and half expected it to be Allen. It was John. She frowned as she answered. “John?”

“Ellen, you have to abort.”

“What?”

“You can’t send them in there. He knows.”

“What are you talking about?”

John exhaled loudly. “Somebody was here, left a box. It’s full of DVDs. He knows you guys are coming.”

Ellen felt the color drain from her face. “Gabe and Caleb are already inside.”

 

Every instinct in him told him to run. Take his boys and run. But the voice said he had to stay. Stay and watch. Watch and learn. 

He pressed play again and watched as they fought…as Dean struggled drunkenly…the camera zoomed in and John could see the drugged daze in Dean’s eyes. Dean yelled and a rough voice said, “Go head, bring daddy out here to watch me fuck you. Bet he’d like that wouldn’t he?”

John sank onto the couch then as he watched Dean’s eyes shut and the fight leave his body. They pulled him into a van and the camera followed. He was unconscious as they stripped him…as each of them took a turn at him. When he started to rouse, they injected him with some drug and just kept at him.

“Dad…please…stop.” Sam’s voice was strained and John looked at him, staring for a long moment before his request registered and he stopped the playback. Sam’s eyes rolled closed. “Sick fuck. Sick fuck.” Sam leaned forward, holding his stomach. 

John shook his head. “We have to…Gabe’s already gone in…he and Caleb…they’re inside. We have to find whatever it is.”

Sam looked up. Of course, he was right. They had to watch. Or…someone did. “Let me.” Sam said, breathlessly. “You don’t need to see…”

John shook his head. “Not alone. You’ve been through enough.”

There were footsteps on the stairs and both of them looked up. Jim looked back, then at the television. “Is everything okay?”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” John muttered, racing for the bathroom. 

Sam forced his eyes away from the screen, not even realizing he’d looked back. It was blank at the moment. “No, Pastor Jim. It may never be okay.”


	36. Harder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe and Caleb walk into the lion's den. Sam and John start the gruesome task of looking for clues in the stacks of DVDs and Pastor Jim starts the delicate task of helping Dean deal.

Ellen sat beside Bobby and watched the gates to the complex as if she could will Gabe and Caleb to reappear. “Shit. I hate it when I’m right like this.”

“So…what do we do?”

Ellen shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“We can’t just leave them.”

“No. Okay.” She blew out and nodded. “Okay. I’m going back to my original plan. We need to buy time, right? Time for John to find out whatever it is that sick bastard wants us to know? He knows we’re here, he’ll expect me to come to him.”

“No.” Bobby shook his head. “No, we’ve already risked Caleb and Gabe. We can’t risk you too.”

“We may not have a choice.”

“Gabe’s last text message said the FBI is on the way. We should wait for them.”

“Gordon.” She pointed with her chin at the delivery truck pulling up to the gates. He was the next step of their plan. He and two of his men were going in under the guise of a delivery for the import company. “I have a really bad feeling about this Bobby. Really bad.”

 

Sam sat and stared at the television. He could hear Jim and his father talking, but they were wasting time. He reached over with a shaking hand and picked up the remote.

“Sam.” He shook his head. 

“Have to. You said it yourself.” He turned and looked up at them. “Pastor Jim, we’re going to need you to keep Dean occupied and away from this. If he…he wouldn’t be able to handle this. Dad, you can use my laptop. If we split them up and run them on fast forward, we can only stop if we see something that needs…that we need to watch.”

“Sam…I don’t think you need to do this.” John said, his hand on the back of the chair. 

“I don’t think we have a choice.” Sam took the first ten DVDs from the box and set them on the coffee table before handing the box back to his father. “And we don’t have the time to argue. 

“I’ll go sit with Dean.” Jim said, patting Sam’s shoulder. “But you and I will have a talk soon.”

Sam nodded, but he had other things on his mind at the moment. He could feel his father still hovering, but he ignored him, turning his attention to the television and turning the video back on.

The screen filled with Dean’s face, drugged into oblivion as someone fucked his mouth. Sam swallowed with difficulty and started the fast forward, trying to watch for the clue and not really see the rest. Behind him, his father made a hurt sound, then left the room.

 

John settled onto his bed with Sam’s laptop and the box. He plugged in a set of headphones, so he wouldn’t disturb Dean across the hall and reached into the box. He chose the last disk, and stared at it for a long minute before he put it in.

The picture that appeared was a little grainy, and he started when he saw his own face appear on the screen. He recognized the lobby of the motel in Sharon, then Dean behind him. The bastard had been watching them then…or had gotten the footage since. 

He set it to fast forward and watched him and Dean leave the lobby. The picture switched then to an outside camera, focused on the door of the room they went into. Dean’s face appeared at the window, staring out almost at the camera.

There were things he knew, things he saw, and things he only saw the aftermath of. He had to stop the playback when they killed Joshua. Then there was Sam.

He was alone, in a cage, hands bound, naked, shivering. This wasn’t surveillance video. It had a different quality, it had sound. Sound. Sam, whimpering. Sam crying. John set it to fast forward again to make the sound just…go away…twenty minutes later, John lost what little was left in his stomach after watching the way they’d beaten him, and without so much as a chance to rest, thrust themselves into him, laughing as they did it.

It was one thing to know this had been done…and another to watch it happen. He pulled himself up to his feet, staring at his ashen face in the bathroom mirror. “Your boys need you to hold this together,” he told himself before splashing some water on his face and rinsing out his mouth. “You can do this.”

He went back to the computer, still not sure that he could.

 

Gabe looked up when the elevator finally opened and two burly men in black suits emerged. “Master James, sorry to keep you waiting. If you would come with us.” 

Gabe stood and nodded. Caleb stood once Gabe was past him and followed. Neither of the men looked twice at him, which suited Caleb just fine.

“Mr. Gorlian has been unavoidably delayed due to some issues with interests in Florida, but he has asked that we extend you every courtesy, once we’ve confirmed your identity.”

“I hope the delay won’t take too long.” Gabe said with a note of disdain in his voice. “I have a flight to catch this afternoon.”

“I’m sure you won’t miss it, sir. If you would step this way.”

The taller of the two led them off the elevator and into a white room with what looked like and airport x-ray machine. “Are you carrying any weapons, sir?”

“Of course.”

“Please set them on the tray.” 

Gabe stepped up to the low table and the series of white plastic trays. He pulled the gun from the small of his back, pulled out the clip and set it on the tray, then he flexed his wrist and the small, but deadly, knife popped into his hand from its hidden sheath on his forearm. 

That was apparently impressive, as the shorter of the two men whistled. “Is that a Dankiner model? I haven’t seen one of those in a long time.”

Gabe flipped the knife around and offered him the handle. “It is. I prefer blades to other tools…don’t I, boy?” He tossed the comment over his shoulder at Caleb who bowed his head in agreement. 

When the knife came back, he twirled it through his fingers, then set it next to the gun. “Anything else that might be construed as a weapon, sir?”

Gabe smiled coldly. “Just about anything can be construed as a weapon boys, if one knows how to use it.”

They shifted a little, uncomfortable with what sounded like it could be a threat. “I have car keys and a pen. Everything else is all me.”

“And the folder your slave is holding?”

“Information, for Mr. Gorlian.” The short one reached for it and Gabe reached his hand for it, bringing Caleb a step closer to him. “It is for his eyes only, of course, and encrypted.”

“Very well. Please step through the x-ray after me. Do not touch the machine, look straight forward, hands at your sides.”

A few minutes later Caleb was again on his knees beside a chair while Gabe settled in to wait. 

“Can we bring you anything, Master James?”

“No. I’m fine.” He squeezed Caleb’s shoulder and repeated it to himself, hoping it would calm him down.

 

“Ellen!”

“Calm down Allen. All we can do is stick to the plan. Gabe has a good head on his shoulders. He knows what he’s doing.”

“We should probably take this argument out of the line of sight of those security cameras.” Bobby interjected. “Or get on with this.”

“If anything happens to my boy in there—“

“Nothing is going to happen, Allen.”

Her earpiece crackled and she turned away. “Gordon?”

“In position, Mama.”

“Observations?”

“Ten birds awaiting shipping. Five more just arrived.”

“Any sign of our company?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, be advised, we’re moving to the next phase.”

“Roger that.”

“What next phase?” Allen asked as Ellen went around to the passenger side of the car and pulled on a black jacket.

“The one where I go in and find Gabe and Caleb, and stall and you and Bobby get read to make with the distractions so that we can get the hell out if the cavalry doesn’t show.”

 

“I want Sam.” Dean said, his eyes flashing anger at Pastor Jim who stood between him and the door. 

“I know, Son, but he’s busy and he asked me to look after you.”

“Don’t need a babysitter.” Dean growled, crossing his arms. He didn’t understand. “Need Sam.” It had been over an hour. Everything was so jumbled in his head.

“You know, I might not be Sam, but I’m a pretty good listener. Maybe you would feel better if you talked a little.”

“Bout what?” Dean leaned back against the headboard, eyeing Jim.

“Anything. Everything. What you’re thinking, feeling. What you remember…or don’t remember.”

“How can I talk about something I don’t remember?”

Jim smiled. Dean remembered he liked how Pastor Jim smiled. Always had. “Sometimes it helps…just tell me something…anything that comes to mind.”

“When I was twelve, I lost a toad in your church.” 

Jim chuckled, and crossed his arms. “Not really what I had in mind. But it’s good to know where it came from.”

Dean squirmed a little on the bed. “I know what you want me to talk about. I don’t know if I can.”

Jim nodded and came to sit on the end of the bed. “It’s okay Dean. I’m here to listen.”

Dean drew his legs up to his chest. “I don’t want them to hate me.”

“Who, your father and brother?”

Dean nodded and Jim echoed the gesture. “I don’t think they could, Dean. They both love you very much.”

“Not when they know.” Dean pressed his lips together and sighed heavily. “When they know how many there were…how I just…let them….”

 

Sam stopped the playback and got up, turning from the television with tears streaming down his face. At the end of the second disk, there was no sign of any clue, only endless footage of Dean being brutalized. He was still fighting back…but Sam could see the strength for it waning.

The long black spots were the worst…when Sam slowed the playback to make sure the voice wasn’t back, only to listen as Dean whispered endlessly, or screamed his name. 

Sam grabbed at his crutches and hobbled into the kitchen. They were going to run out of time before they found it. If it wasn’t all just some sick joke. He wanted a drink, something stiff, but the best they had was beer. He opened one and slammed it down. It didn’t help. 

He took a deep breath and moved back into the living room, changing disks. He sat a little closer to the television and hit play. Instead of the dank, dark cell, the screen was filled with sunshine and green grass, and him. Large as life, he strode across the screen, his arm around Jessica, laughing at some joke the camera didn’t pick up. He could hear the laughter though, could hear Jessica’s voice as she pushed him away and took off running, daring him to catch her.

All around them the campus was alive with students moving between classes or whatever other business moved them around the quad. He flinched as he watched himself trip over someone’s foot and tumble to the ground. His breath caught as he recognized the man on the blanket. “Razz.” 

There was more, but he fast forwarded until it showed Jessica’s apartment. The picture seemed to just stop, showing the front of the building. He double checked to make sure that it wasn’t paused, realizing in growing horror that they could still be watching her, watching the campus…stealing students that everyone thought had just dropped out. 

Sam fumbled for his phone, dialing Jessica’s number before realizing he hadn’t spoken to her in months. He got her voice mail and thought about hanging up. 

“Hey, Jess. It’s me, Sam. I…I know it’s been a while, and I…just wanted to make sure that you’re okay. I mean…I know I was a jerk, taking off like that. I found my brother though…and I…was worried about you. So…call me, the number’s the same.”

 

Gabe knew they were likely being watched, and any communication he tried to have with the outside world would be monitored. Gorlian had left them sitting for close to an hour. He was getting nervous. 

Enough. He thought. If they waited any longer—The door opened and a woman in a business suit appeared. “Master James, Mr. Gorlian is ready to see you now.”

“About damn time.” Gabe muttered as he stood. He moved slowly, knowing Caleb was probably hurting from the kneeling and offering him a chance to loosen up. 

“This way.” She led him out of the room they’d left him waiting in, and into a lobby of sorts, then up to another elevator. As the elevator doors opened, she smiled and led them across a smaller lobby area, greeting a receptionist as she opened the doors to a spacious private office. The man standing behind the impressive desk was big, like John Winchester, broad shoulders, built for bull strength.

“Mr. Gorlian, may I present Master Maxwell James.”

“Thank you Theresa, that will be all.”

He smiled widely, holding out a hand as he came around the desk. “Welcome, young Master James. Your father told me many good things about you. I was hoping we would get a chance to meet.”

“Pity it took my father’s death in your stupid little games to bring us to this, eh?” Gabe said, shaking the offered hand.

Gorlian’s face clouded a little. “The loss of your father was most unfortunate, I’ll admit.” He moved back toward his desk. “Your father was a friend and a valued employee. His talents will be missed.”

Gabe raised an eyebrow. “The senior Master James was a sick pervert who got his kicks breaking the unbreakable and turning them into toys for the rich and equally perverted.”

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat without being asked, snapping his fingers at Caleb, who came to kneel beside him instantly.

“Is he one of your fathers?”

Gabe let one hand caress Caleb’s head briefly. “No, he’s mine. My father broke him, but I trained him.”

He watched Gorlian take his seat behind the desk and waited. The longer this took the better the chances were that the others would get in and get their jobs done. 

“So, you aren’t here just to listen to me eulogize your father.”

“No. I’m not.” He held out his hand to Caleb for the folder, and sat forward. “I’m here to finish something my father started.”

 

“Can you tell me why you think they would hate you for something that was out of your control, Dean?”

“Shouldn’t have been. I’m better than that. Stronger. Should have fought more.”

“From what your father told me, you fought plenty, Dean. Sometimes the bad guy is just better than we are.”

“Good soldier fights. Good soldier wins. I wasn’t good enough.” Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Can I see Sam?”

“In a little bit Dean.”

He got up and went to the window. The sun shone down in the yard outside. “I forgot for a while,” he said softly. 

“Forgot what?”

Dean shook his head as he leaned against the window frame. “What the sun felt like. What the wind sounds like. Sam’s voice…Dad’s face.” He licked his lips and closed his eyes, as if looking inside himself for something. “I remember thinking, ‘This can’t be real. This can’t be happening,’ but I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t scream…there were all these hands…and voices….” Dean was shaking. Jim got off the bed and came toward him slowly. “I said no….I tried to stop them…but I couldn’t move…and there were so many of them…I yelled…for Dad…I yelled and yelled and he didn’t hear me…he didn’t come.”

Jim reached out for him, but Dean slapped the hand away. “Why didn’t he hear me? Why?” Dean was yelling, his fists flailing at Jim. “They hurt me and told me he wouldn’t come…they shoved their fists and dicks inside me and made me come and laughed at me…Dirty! Whore! Slave!”

Jim stood stoically and let Dean rage at him, let him pound at his arms and chest until he ran out of steam, then just pulled him close and held onto him. When he calmed, Jim walked him back to the bed. “Maybe it would be good for you to rest now. I’ll go see if Sam is ready for a break. Maybe he can come sit with you.”

“I want Sam.” Dean whispered and Jim nodded.

“You stay here, I’ll get him.”

 

“We figured it was time you knew the truth, slave. About why you’re here.” Thomas tugged Dean’s head back and Razz held a tape player near Dean’s head. He pushed the button and Dean gasped as his father’s voice poured out of it. 

“My son, Dean. Pretty face, might be hard to break. Once you do though, he’s obedient. Trained him that way myself.”

Sam gasped. He’d heard the words before, but not like this, not in his father’s own voice, his own inflection…not watching what the sound was doing to Dean.

”I told your daddy what would become of you, slave. He asked if he could watch.” Thomas said as Razz pushed Dean’s face toward the floor, positioning him with his ass up. “Maybe we’ll send him pictures.”

Thomas laughed as Razz drove into Dean, playing the tape again and again while Razz raped him. Dean broke, sobbing into the metal floor, oblivious to what they were doing to him. 

“Sam?”

Sam jumped, pausing the playback quickly before looking up. “Pastor Jim….I didn’t hear you.”

“Are you okay?”

Sam wiped the tears off his face and sort of nodded, then shook his head. “I…don’t really know…actually.” He looked back at the television. “It’s…harder than I thought. I mean…I knew about this…but hearing it…seeing it…” He shivered and turned the television off. “It’s not the same.”

“Maybe you should take a break then. Dean’s been asking for you.”

Sam shook his head. “He’ll know. He’ll know I saw.”

Jim came to squat by the chair. “He won’t know. Right now he’s all torn up and he needs you.”

“But we have to…its only the third disk…and Ellen…”

Jim patted his hand. “Let me, Sam. You go sit with Dean. I’ll look at the next few disks, okay?”

“No…I can’t ask you to…do that. I should finish.”

“I came to help, Sam.”

“I agree with Jim, Sam.” Sam looked up to find his father at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m taking a break, making something to eat. You go sit with Dean. I’ll call Ellen, see where we’re at. A few minutes isn’t going to make a difference.”

Sam stood and took the crutches Jim handed him. “I don’t like it.”

“Duly noted.” John said, though his tear streaked face belied the tone of his voice, as did his arms sweeping Sam up in a bear hug when he got close enough. “I am so sorry, Sam.” John whispered, tugging him just a little closer. “I love you so much.”

Sam bit back the sob that threatened to escape him and John let him go to work his way up the stairs. He let himself into the bedroom and slid into bed behind Dean, wrapping his arms around him. “Sammy?”

“Yeah, Dean, it’s me.” Sam sniffled and rubbed at his swollen eyes a little more. “You okay?”

Dean shrugged. “Don’t know. Pastor Jim was here.”

“Did you talk?”

Dean rolled over to face Sam, concern in his eyes as he saw Sam’s face. “You okay, Sammy?”

Sam nodded, but in the back of his mind he could hear Dean’s voice in the dark screaming his name over and over again. “I’m feeling a little sad right now Dean, but I’m okay.”

Dean kissed both of his eyes. “Don’t be sad, Sammy. I’m here. I’ll take good care of you.”

Sam didn’t think he’d ever be able to explain to his brother why that just made him cry harder.


	37. In Good Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe takes on Mr. Gorlian, John makes a confession to Pastor Jim, Dean learns about Jessica and reacts in a way that surprises Sam.

Gorlian raised an eyebrow as Gabe held the folder up. “I’m intrigued.”

Gabe stood and put the folder in front of Gorlian. “It’s encrypted of course, but I can give you the overview, and you can decode it later.” Gorlian opened the folder and fingered the disks inside. 

“I take it that the code isn’t one of ours.”

Gabe smiled. “No, it too is mine. You’ll find I’m a man of many talents, Mr. Gorlian.”

“And scarcely more than a boy.” Gorlian’s smile was amused, his tone wry.

Gabe cocked his head. There was something in his voice. Gabe let his eyes sweep the room again. “You’ll find that most of the information contained in that folder regards the younger Gorlian, Terrance.”

That earned him a heavy sigh and Gabe smiled. He paced over to the crystal decanters on a side table. He lifted one and sniffed at it. Brandy. “May I?”

“You are aware that you’re aren’t of legal drinking age?”

“Like you, Mr. Gorlian, I don’t generally put much stock in society’s laws, except when they suit me.” Gabe turned his back and poured two glasses, then moved smoothly across the room to hand one to Gorlian. “A toast. To my father…and his legacy.”

Gorlian eyed the Brandy, then Gabe. After a long moment, he held the glass up. “To Master James, the sickest bastard on my payroll.”

 

“Sam can’t take much more.” Jim said as he sat at the table.

John nodded as he set about pulling lunch meat from the refrigerator. “I know. I know. I don’t’ know how much more I can take either.”

“I take it you haven’t found anything?”

John put both hands on the counter and sighed. “I’ve discovered that this organization has it’s hand in just about every thing. Security footage from motels and bars, covert cameras…they were watching the Roadhouse.”

John froze, then turned. “The Roadhouse. They were watching the Roadhouse.”

Jim shook his head, looking confused. John fumbled for his phone. “Ellen…I when did you talk to Jo last?”

Jim stood and came to stand beside John. John frowned at him and shook his head. “Call her, then call me back.”

“John?”

“He’s got Jo. He’s got her and he’s playing with us.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The footage of the Roadhouse. Most of it is from the day we met there, the day they grabbed Sam. But some of it…shots of Ellen and Jo. Some of it they seem to be aware of the camera. Jo seems to talk to whoever has the camera.” John paced away. “I swore to Bill I’d keep my eye on that girl.”

:”John, you can’t blame yourself-“

“Like hell I can’t, Jim. Like hell. I killed Bill Harvelle, Jim. I killed him. So don’t tell me that it isn’t my fault that his brother kidnapped my boys and…and…turned them into slaves…fucking sex slaves, Jim!”

John grabbed a plate off the counter and threw it across the room, shattering it on the wall. “Don’t tell me that his little girl is going to be okay. Don’t tell me that I’m not to blame. I know.” He threw another plate, then another.

Jim stood at his side and waited. When John ran out of plates in easy reach he crossed his arms. “You done?”

John looked up at him. “I don’t know.”

“Want to tell me what you mean when you say you killed Bill?”

John closed his eyes and went to sit at the table. He lowered his head into his hands. “We were in the middle of no where. Bill was hurt bad. The berserker cut him up something awful. He begged me. I carried him on my back while he begged me.”

“He asked you to kill him?” Jim asked gently, coming to sit beside John.

John sighed and nodded. “He knew he wasn’t going to make it out. He’d have died before I could get him to the truck, let alone to a hospital. I built a small fire and bunked him down next to it that night. He made me promise to look after Jo and Ellen…to protect them. He never told me about his brother…or that the berserker was one of his.” 

If he closed his eyes, he could drop into the moment, sitting beside Bill in the dark, could hear the gurgle in his chest, smell the blood and rotting flesh. _“Please, John…just end it. Can’t…”_

“I slit his throat.”

He’d never said it out loud, never told anyone. He dragged a hand over his face and jumped when his phone rang. “Ellen?”

“John, I can’t get a hold of Jo. She’s not answering her phone. What’s wrong?”

John licked his lips. “Not sure yet, I was…worried…I’m not…”

“John, are you telling me they have my daughter?”

“Don’t panic Ellen. I don’t know anything for sure. We haven’t…seen anything yet.”

“John?”

“Just…hang tight, keep to the plan.”

“Fuck the plan! Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“There was footage on one of the disks…you and Jo…I just…jumped to conclusions, Ellen. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Nothing my ass. This bastard is deliberate. If he put that there it was for a reason.”

Ellen hung up the phone and shoved it in her pocket. Everything was sliding into hell. She chewed on a fingernail, then stalked back to the car where Bobby and Allen waited. “I’m going.” She reached around Bobby for her jacket and a gun.

“No.” Bobby said, grabbing at her.

“Let me go. They have Jo.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“John wouldn’t have called if—“

“John’s an impulsive ass sometimes Ellen.” Allen said. 

She pulled her arm free. She turned and looked down the hill at the gates. Five black SUVs rolled up to them. “Looks like the Feds are here. That’s my way in.” She leaned back into the car and pulled out an id wallet, grinning as she held it up. “Jo thought it was a funny gift. Had Ash make it for me after she saw some hunters use one.”

“Ellen—“

She turned and pointed at Allen. “I’m going in after your boy and my daughter. You coming?”

 

“So, what is it you want me to know about my little brother, Terrance?” Gorlian asked, sipping his brandy as Gabe re-took his seat.

“He’s been stealing from the organization. He’s also the reason why the Winchesters are free today and not on their knees servicing their owners like good little slave boys.”

Gabe sipped at his own drink, hoping it would strengthen his resolve and not make him sloppy. He watched Gorlian and took a deep breath. “Had he let a seasoned salesman handle that sale, they would have seen through the glamour before the younger Winchester got away with his brother…if he even managed to get in the front door.”

Gorlian lifted his chin. His face was unreadable. Gabe struck the right nerve. “I realize the Winchesters were your own special project. Terrance was over eager, didn’t do a thorough background on Samuel Silvers. He saw money and his eyes glazed over. Then, when he realized his error, he sent that wannabe after them. Never trust a man with a personal stake in the situation.”

“Tulsa was…messy.”

Gabe let a slow smile creep across his face. “If that’s what you call losing three of your best trainers. Even my father couldn’t salvage that mess.” Gabe took another sip of his brandy as Gorlian finished his. 

Gorlian suddenly looked surprised, looking down into his glass. “Are you okay, Mr. Gorlian?” Gabe asked, standing.

“What…” He sniffed at the glass, his eyes rolling.

Gabe smiled and took the glass before Gorlian dropped it and pushed him away from the desk so he couldn’t hit a panic button. “Another of my hidden talents. Don’t worry…no permanent damage. I’ll save that for the others. You’re going to go to sleep now, Mr. Gorlian…and when you wake up you can take this up with John Winchester.”

“You…shit…you…” Gabe pushed him off the chair and looked up at Caleb.

“How did you…the hypo?”

Gabe shrugged and pulled the pen out of his pocket. He tossed it on the desk. “More than one way to deliver a dose. He was on to us. I knew it the minute he said ‘boy’…He’ll sleep for at least four hours. Help me move him so I can get into the computer.”

“Where are we going to hide him?” Caleb asked, getting up off the floor and stretching. “No closets.”

“Under the desk.” He helped Caleb roll the unconscious man under the desk, grateful he was the kind of man who chose his desk to match the size of his ego. As soon as he was out of the way, Gabe pulled the chair back around and set to the computer. The first thing he went for was the surveillance feed. “Nice.”

Caleb came behind him to look. “I take it that caravan is our government at work?”

Gabe nodded. “Let’s see what they’re up against.” His fingers flew over the keyboard, popping up screens faster than Caleb could keep track of.

“Hey…isn’t that one of those multiple input things?” Caleb pointed to the opposite wall and the giant screen and Gabe nodded, working a few more screens, then the giant monitor came to life, segmenting off into 25 screens of surveillance.

“Caleb, phone…they won’t be tracking outgoing calls on their own lines. Get a hold of Ellen or Bobby and feed them this info.”

Gabe turned his attention back to the computer screen, frantically clicking. “They know the Feds are here, they’re attempting to wipe the facility clean.” Gabe offered when he could feel the question hanging in the air.

“Can you stop it?”

“I don’t know. Call. Let me concentrate.”

 

“Dean?” Sam’s eyes burned from crying and his head ached, but the touch of Dean’s hand in his was comforting.

Dean’s eyes opened, meeting his. “Yeah, Sam?”

“You should know…I’m sorry it took me so long to come get you.”

Dean frowned. “You tried your best.”

“But it wasn’t good enough, because you…if could take it all away, I would.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, and Dean’s hand stroked over Sam’s face softly. Slowly, Sam recognized when he was doing as he started kissing a tender trail over Sam’s forehead. “Dean. Stop.”

Dean’s eyes crinkled and he looked confused. “I don’t want you to.” Sam said breathlessly.

“You like this.” Dean said, his voice hurt.

Sam caught his hand and held it. “I showed you this when…when you thought you….were…mine…that you had to please me.”

“And it pleased you.” Dean said.

Sam nodded. “You don’t…you don’t belong to me Dean. You don’t have to…I don’t want you to.”

“But I want to.” Dean responded, and Sam could only close his eyes as Dean kissed under and around them.

“Please, Dean? Please just…don’t…for now…okay?”

Dean kissed his hands and nodded. “Okay.”

Sam’s pocket vibrated and he disentangled his hand from Dean’s to get his phone. “Jess?”

“You’ve got some nerve, Sam.”

“I know. I just…wanted to know that you were okay.”

“I don’t hear from you for months, and you leave me a message like that?”

Sam sighed. “Jess…just…the reason I left, there were some men. They were stalking me. I didn’t know it at the time. There were pictures of you and me, of the apartment house. I wanted to make sure it was just me.”

“Jesus Sam!”

“Jess, calm down. I’m sure you’re fine. Just…be careful, okay?” 

She was quiet and for a minute he thought she’d hung up. “I miss you,” she said softly.

He swallowed. “Yeah, I miss you too.”

“Are you coming back?”

Sam shook his head. “No…my family needs me.”

“You needed me once.”

Sam closed his eyes. “Just…watch yourself, Jess.”

“Yeah, you too Sam.”

Sam closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. 

“Jess?”

Sam nodded and opened his eyes. Dean’s face had closed off and he almost looked angry. “She was my girlfriend, Dean. At school.”

Sam had a split second to register the look on Dean’s face, then he rolled away and got out of the bed. Sam sat up. “Dean?”

His back was to Sam, but Sam could feel the anger clear across the room. “You’re mad at me?” Sam got up, fumbling for his crutches. “You’re mad about Jessica?”

“I was in that place, screaming for you, waiting for you…getting fucked up the ass for you and you were off dicking around with some girl?” Dean’s voice dripped with fury.

“Dean, it wasn’t—“

Dean turned away from the window, his face red. “No. I waited. I fought for months waiting for you and Dad. Waiting through things I could never have imagined. I waited Sam and I dreamed you would come and I hated myself and I hated them and all that time that I held on to you and what I thought we had and you were off fucking a girl!”

Sam sucked in a shocked breath and moved a little closer. “Dean, we talked about this before I left.”

“That’s right, Sam. You **left**. You left me and ran away to her. And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“I—Dean—I left for you.”

“Did you? Funny, it didn’t feel that way.” Dean crossed the few feet between them. “I wanted **you** Sam. In fact, it’s the only thing I have ever wanted my whole life. And you just took that away from me because you thought you knew better.” Sam wanted to kiss away the pain and fury in his brother’s face, but knew Dean would let him touch him. “You…fuck Sam…you think you know what it was, but you have no idea. Four days Sam. I was there for months. And you were off with her.”

Dean balled up his fists and pressed them against his face. “Get the hell out Sam. Leave me alone.”

“No.” Sam pulled on his fists. “No Dean, we need to talk about this.”

“Fine. I’ll leave.” Dean pushed past him. Sam grabbed for him, losing a crutch, then his balance as Dean punched him hard across the jaw. He hit the ground as Dean slammed the door and he could hear him pounding down the stairs.

“Fuck.” Sam pulled his crutches to him, replaying Dean’s anger, his pained face…it hurt…it stung and burned…but it was _Dean_. 

 

Dean stormed down the stairs and out the front door and down the porch steps before John and Jim even got out to the porch. “Dean?”

“Not now Dad.” Dean yelled. He paced between the porch and the bumper of Jim’s truck, one hand on his hip, the other scratching over his head. 

“Are you okay, Dean?” Pastor Jim asked.

Dean turned to face them. “I’m angry. Isn’t that what you two have been trying to do? Get me angry? Congratulations. I am. Now go away and leave me the fuck alone.”

 

“Shit, this guy’s good.” Gabe muttered, his hands flying over the keyboard. “Fuck. No…I got you.”

“Gabe?” 

“Not now, Caleb.” Gabe chewed on his lower lip. “I’ve almost….there…shit….okay…now I’ve got him.” He pulled his hands off the keyboard and stared, waiting. “Ha! Gotcha!”

“Gabe?” Caleb said again and Gabe looked up with a huge grin.

“Locked him out of his own system, shut down security protocols, and snagged all the good shit for us to dig through later. I just have to upload it all to a secure location.”

“That’s nice, Gabe. But we need to go.”

“We’re probably safer here while the Feds clean the rest up.” Gabe didn’t look up as he set his fingers back on the keyboard to start the upload.

Caleb shook his head. “Not when Gorlian’s goons are coming for him.” He pointed to one of the screens on the wall.

That made Gabe look up. Five big men were storming their way. “Shit. Okay. Shove the couch in front of the door while I look for the escape hatch.”

“Escape hatch?”

“Couch!” Gabe pointed, and turned back to the computer. Caleb started pushing the heavy leather sofa in front of the door while Gabe pulled up schematics for the building. “Yeah…this guy’s a classic villain. Insane, but functioning. Power hungry and paranoid. He’d have a secret entrance hidden somewhere.”

The only sound in the room for the next few minutes were the two men breathing. “Okay, this is interesting. Not what I was looking for…but….” There was a loud click.

“Gabe?”

“Magnetic locks.” Gabe reached for the phone. “No escape hatch.” He dialed. “Don’t be angry,” he said when his father answered the phone. “Caleb and I are okay. I have Gorlian, knocked out. We’re barricaded in his office. We’re safe enough for the moment, but we’re trapped.”

“Okay, Gabe. Tell us where. Ellen and Bobby and I are on site.”

“Twelve. Gorlian’s office is about the only thing on twelve…except. Oh, I didn’t see that before.”

“What?” Caleb came to stand by him while Gabe juggled the phone and reached for the keyboard to bring the schematic up on the big screen. The 25 little screens disappeared and was replaced by a large schematic of the building. “There’s another containment area. It looks completely separate from the rest of the building.”

“Gabe?”

“Hold on Dad, I’m on to something.”

“We’re on our way, call me back.”

“Yeah…oh, Dad…there are five armed goons between you and us…just so you know.”

“Great. Stay put, we’re coming for you.”

“Look, Caleb.” Gabe pointed to an area on the twelfth floor that seemed to have no access from anywhere in the building. “Wanna bet he’s hiding something in there?”

“See if there’s surveillance in the area.” Caleb said.

“Yeah…on it.” 

 

Sam rubbed at his jaw as he picked himself up off the ground. He considered going after Dean, but maybe he’d given him enough stimulation for the moment. He moved to the window, watching as Dean paced in agitation. He could see Pastor Jim talking to him and was tempted to open the window so he could hear.

Instead, he turned away. Dean deserved some privacy.

He was angry. At Sam. Sam shook his head and limped back to the bed. Of all the things he had to be angry about, it took jealousy to open him up. He collapsed onto the bed and rubbed his face. 

Jessica was okay. The images from the DVD flashed in his head. He looked so happy and she seemed so perfect. In some ways he was happy with her. He was…normal. Except that it wasn’t normal to wake up in the arms of a beautiful woman thinking about your brother. It wasn’t normal to have to call her baby just so her wouldn’t call her Dean. 

He’d tried. Pretended. Dean would have been proud of how hard he pretended. 

 

“Dean, you’re right, I’m glad that you’re angry.” Jim said, moving a little closer. “But we aren’t leaving you alone. Not yet.”

Dean closed his eyes, fairly vibrating with anger…with jealousy. “I want you to tell me why you’re angry.” Jim’s voice was gentle and somehow that only angered Dean more.

“No.” Dean shook his head. “Some things are…just private. Pastor or not.”

“Fair enough. Can you tell me who you’re angry at, Dean?”

His eyes flashed to his father on the porch, then to the bedroom window. “Them.” He took a few steps closer to the woods and sighed explosively. “They look at me…like they know…like they think they understand. And they expect me to just…go back to being him…”

Jim shook his head. “They want you to be stronger, better. They want you to heal.”

“I can see it in his eyes.” Dean looked up at his father, who was still watching from the porch. “I disgust him.” His head filled with memories of the first few times he saw his father after…the anguish in his face, the lost look in his eyes…and the way he’d refused the only thing Dean had to offer at the time. “I should disgust him. The things I’ve done.”

 

John watched Dean and Jim move further away and sighed. At least Dean was in good hands. He blew out a long breath and went back inside to finish making sandwiches. Sam was just coming down the stairs. “Is he okay?” Sam asked breathlessly.

John nodded. “He’s talking to Jim. What set that off?”

Sam shook his head. “I got a phone call.” He pointed at the television. “Earlier, I found footage that showed they were at Stanford, that they watched us…me and Jessica.”

“Jessica?”

Sam rolled his eyes. It was easy to forget that his father and Dean knew next to nothing about his life at Stanford. “My girlfriend…or she was until I disappeared in the middle of the night with only a note that said, ‘Family emergency, back soon’…I called her to make sure she was all right. She called me back.”

“And?” John moved into the kitchen and Sam followed. 

“And, Dean got…jealous. Then furious.”

John nodded. “That’s good.”

“It didn’t feel good.” Sam countered, sitting at the table.

John moved the sandwich making supplies to the table and sat down opposite Sam. “I know. But everything I’ve read says it’s an important step.”

“Everything you read?” Sam crossed his arms and looked at his father. 

John squinted at him. “Gabe pointed me to some…information. To help me…handle things…to understand you and your brother.”

“And you…” Sam shook his head. “I’m impressed.”

John looked up at him. “I’m insulted. You think I wouldn’t do everything I could to help you two?”

“No…no…not at all Dad. I just…didn’t expect it.” Sam smiled and reached for the bread.

“Well…You were right Sam…back at the beginning, when you said we were in over our heads.”

Sam absorbed the knowledge and watched his father for a few seconds before he remembered what they were supposed to be doing. “The DVDs. We should—“

John shook his head. “No more. I think I know what message he was trying to get across.”

“Oh?” 

“He’s got friends in high places, and he’s used them to get to us. I think he’s got Ellen’s daughter and is going to try to use her to get away.”

“What’s happening?”

John shrugged. “Last we heard, the Feds arrived and were going in.”

“Feds?” Sam shook his head and frowned. He felt like he’d been sleeping for days, like he had been kept in the dark.

“Apparently, Gabe has a plan…and so far its working.”

“Gabe…has a plan…” He didn’t like the sound of that. He remembered Gabe’s plans. One of them nearly got both boys expelled for destroying the chem. Lab Sam’s senior year. “I hope it doesn’t involve chemical reactions and impressing the science teacher.” Sam muttered.


	38. No Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew cleans up in Austin, Dean spends time with Pastor Jim, and Sam starts digging through files that Gabe sent.

“Caleb? What do you make of this?” 

Gabe moved away so Caleb could lean over him and peer at the picture on the screen. “Those aren’t sex slaves, that’s for sure.” He squinted at the shadowy figures in the cages. “This is that hidden room?”

Gabe nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Caleb shook his head. “I don’t like the looks of it.”

Four cages lined either side of the narrow room, and each held one dark figure. They were roughly the size and shape of a man, but they were dark and seemed to be covered in fur. The camera panned and Gabe gasped. At the far end of the room was a large cage. At least five people were in it. 

“What do you suppose it is?” Gabe asked, even as he was swapping screens to check on his upload. Caleb shook his head. He put a hand on Gabe’s back. Gabe looked up at him with a small smile. “Sorry…curiosity. My father says it will get me killed one day.”

Caleb ruffled Gabe’s perfect hair and laughed. “What are you, a cat?” He pointed to the bring screen. “Bring up the security again.” There was pounding on the outside door, then gunshots. The screen came to life and they watched as the thugs outside the door shot at the doorway through which they’d come.

Gabe reached for the phone again, dialing Sam’s phone number. “Hey…you near your laptop?...Get it. I’m sending you a link.” Gabe’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “I’m uploading the information I’ve ripped here. You can start going through it. I get the feeling we’re missing something here.”

He spared a glance up at the grid of screens. “Caleb.” He pointed to the screen on the left where he could see Gordon and his boys coming out of a building. Caleb nodded.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, Gabe, I’m bringing up my email now.”

“How are things there?” Gabe asked while he waited.

“Okay.” Sam said. “We…it’s a long story. Okay, I’ve got it.”

“Good. Hey, is your Dad right there?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I want him to see something. Give me a second to grab a snapshot.” He swapped back to the security camera in the closed room and zoomed in on the nearest cage and grabbed several still pictures. He shot those in a second email. “Have him look at the pictures I just sent you. Tell me if he knows what they are.”

“Dad?” He could hear Sam talking softly with his father, then John’s voice was filling Gabe’s ear.

“Gabe, don’t go near those things.”

“I can’t get to them sir, even if I wanted to. Haven’t found the way in. What are they?”

“Berserkers. That many is like an army of them. They could destroy everyone in that facility in a matter of minutes.”

“Gabe…open the door.” Caleb said and he looked up to see his father and Ellen picking their way over dead bodies outside the door.

“John, I have to go. I’ll be in touch.”

Caleb moved the couch and Gabe finagled the lock. The door eased open and his father was bursting into the room, rushing to Gabe to pull him bodily out of the chair and hug him. “Hmmpfh…Dad…”

“If I weren’t so relieved to see you Gabriel, I’d have you over my knee.”

“I’m fine. And you’re wrinkling my suit.” Gabe said dryly, though he didn’t pull away. 

When Allen finally released him and stepped back, Gabe straightened his suit and nodded toward the big screen. “That’s quite an entrance.”

“This everything on site?”

Gabe shook his head. “The important stuff. Gordon and his guys just got out of the Exports warehouse. Looks like it got bloody in there.”

“Knowing Gordon…” Ellen muttered. “Any sign of my daughter?”

Gabe frowned. “Jo? I didn’t know we were looking for her?”

“We aren’t sure.” Allen said. 

Gabe shook his head. “No…I don’t think I’ve seen anything that would be Jo.”

“What about the hidden containment room you mention on the phone?”

Gabe nodded and brought up the video on the computer monitor. “John said they’re berserkers.” 

Allen hissed as he counted. “Great. Eight of them. That’s enough to cripple a small city.” He looked up at Ellen. “You said Bill’s brother was into controlling them?”

“Michael was into power…” Ellen frowned, looking around the room. “I thought you said you had him…Gorlian.”

Gabe grinned and pointed under the desk. “We hid him before I figured out the door lock. Bobby and Allen pulled the big man out from under the desk. “He’s gonna sleep at least another 3 hours. I gave him a huge dose.”

“Anything else?”

“I think it’s time we move.” Bobby said, speaking for the first time. He pointed with his gun at the monitors. It looks like our federal friends have finally gotten past the first floor.

“I’ve uploaded most of their data to my server. Sam’s already digging through it. I trust Megan, but not her supervisors. This guy’s had a lot of help. For all we know that includes government people.”

“Bobby, let’s get him into his chair, we can wheel him out that way.” 

“What about those berserkers? We just gonna leave them?” 

Allen stared at the screen. “Gabe, is there a failsafe for the room?”

Gabe looked startled. “What?”

“If he was smart, he’s built in a way to kill them without having to go in there. Probably gas.”

“There are other people locked up in there, Allen.” Caleb said. Gabe moved the camera again so that they could see the cage at the end of the room.

Allen’s jaw tightened. “Gabe, you and Caleb get Gorlian out and to the elevator. Bobby, watch their backs.” He moved to the keyboard as they moved to do as he said, but Gabe looked back, his face confused. 

“Dad?”

Allen didn’t look at him. “Just go Gabe.”

Ellen turned Gabe around and headed him out the door. “Come on. Let your father do what has to be done.”

 

“I’m not stupid.” Dean said as he paced along the bank of the stream.

“No, you aren’t.” Jim agreed.

“I know. I mean, I can remember…but…it’s like…it’s like there’s this line, this spot that I just can’t get past…I don’t know if I ever will.”

“What spot is it?” Jim asked and Dean looked up him scowling. “I mean…is it when you were taken? Or after…”

Dean licked his lips and thought about the question. “It starts with his voice…Dad’s voice.” He huffed. “My son, Dean. Pretty face, might be hard to break. Once you do though, he’s obedient. Trained him that way myself.” Dean crossed his arms. “I…god, I don’t know how…but I was holding on. I was…me. Then they played that…and it made everything so real.” He sniffed to keep from crying. He was tired of crying and feeling helpless. He was tired of being obedient and capitulating to everyone around him. He was tired of the look in his father’s eyes when he looked at him.

“Dad and I fought. We fought a lot after Sam…after Sam left me…us.” Dean squatted beside the water and let his fingers trail in it. “He told me to leave. Last thing he said to me.”

“Your father was hurting.” Jim said. “He didn’t understand Sam’s need to go.”

Dean shook his head. “No, he didn’t. He couldn’t.”

Jim came to squat beside him. “Why couldn’t he?”

“He didn’t know.” Dean frowned and plucked a smooth stone from the water. “He didn’t know the real reason. I mean, some of it was school. Some of it was wanting something…real. But it was me. He left because I wasn’t enough for him.”

 

Sam looked up from the laptop, frowning. “They’ve been out there a long time.”

John nodded. “I know. I’m sure they’re fine.”

“How can you be? I mean…they know where we are Dad.” He looked back at the computer, his eyes widening. “Holy shit.”

“What is it?”

“I think…I think it’s a client list. I think…I think we have a problem.”

Sam turned the laptop so his father could see the names scrolling over the screen. “That’s a Senator.” John murmured, his fingers trailing over the list of names. “Shit.”

“We can’t let the feds be the only ones with this information.” Sam said. He pulled the computer back and scrolled through the pages. “They’ll bury it. The organization will grow back…without the Gorlians. They’ll just start over.”

“What else can we do?”

Sam chewed on his lower lip and considered it. “I might have someone with media contacts.”

John shook his head. “No. No. Just no, Sam. We can’t.”

“If we leak the story, they can’t cover it up.”

“No. We’ve crossed a lot of lines on this, Sam. But we keep what we do out of the light. We have to.”

 

“You can’t be serious.” Gabe said as they hid around a corner as the FBI swarmed through the main lobby of the building. “You’re going to steal the FBI’s van?”

Bobby grinned at him. “Can you think of a better way to take Gorlian out of here?”

“I’m not leaving until I know Jo isn’t here.” Ellen said. 

“We can probably hack into the security feed from down here somewhere and do a thorough search.” Gabe said.

“No need.” Allen said, catching up. “She’s not here. I went through every camera I could reach from his computer.” He poked Gorlian’s head.

Ellen’s face twitched and she pulled out her phone. “If she isn’t here…where the hell is she? And Ash for that matter. Neither of them have answered their phones all day.”

“You told him to take her away.” Bobby said. “Maybe they’re out of cell range. Lots of hideaways out there with no cell reception.”

Ellen shook her head. “You’re sure, Allen?”

Allen touched her arm. “We’ll find her, Ellen.”

“If anything…anything…” Her voice shook and his hand slipped around her back.

“I know. I know.” He sighed. “Gabe, check our exit.”

Gabe eased around the corner, startled when he spotted Megan. She met his eyes and excused herself, coming toward him. He stepped back a bit behind a potted plant, not quite back into the hallway. She followed, ducking under a low hanging leaf. “Gabe..I thought you would have gotten out by now,” she said urgently. “You can’t be here.”

“We’re leaving,…trying to anyway.”

“This is huge, Gabe…you have no idea.” She pushed him further behind the plant. “This goes way beyond this Gorlian guy. There are high ranking government officials implicated here. The only way this even got to this is because two separate agents brought it to two different directors. They’re going to be looking for scapegoats.”

“I know I’m asking a lot here, Megan, but I need an exit strategy. I’ve got five people with me, one of whom is unconscious.” He grabbed her hand and hoped he could get the urgency across. 

“I got your other people out, and that wasn’t easy. This…fuck Gabe…what are you thinking?”

He closed his eyes and dragged her around the corner, startling his father and the others. “You see that man?” He pointed at Gorlian. “He arranged to kidnap, rape, beat and brainwash friends of mine. Friends who do what I do…what my father does. He’s the top of the triumvirate. Marvin Gorlian. He would have done the same to me or you. Then he would have sold us to one of those highly placed government officials.”

He let go of her hand and went to stand beside Caleb. “With your help or without, we’re leaving here and taking him with us.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You make life impossible. Do you know that?” She looked back out into the lobby. “Okay. Give me a minute.”

 

“If it happens enough…you can stop thinking about it…stop feeling it…just disconnect and let it happen.” Dean looked at Pastor Jim. “It’s horrific and part of you just can’t believe it…but you can go inside and be okay.”

“Until?”

Dean grimaced, then nodded. “Until they find a way in. Then they’re in your head and they take away the hiding places.” He stood and paced away. It was starting to get chilly, gloomy. “I’m…really tired.” 

Jim nodded. “Okay. We can head back. Get you something to eat and a bed to sleep in.”

They headed up the trail and as they reached the top of the hill, Dean paused. “I know I’ve never been…much of a believer…but I’ve always respected you. You never had to shelter us, but you did and I know sometimes we had to try your patience.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I just…thank you. I wanted to say thank you.”

 

Megan was back in moments. Gabe went to her quickly and she pulled on his arm. “Okay. There’s a side exit, down this hall, and on the right. Send them down there. We’ve already cleared it, so there shouldn’t be anybody down there.”

“Them? What about me?” 

She nodded. “You’re coming with me. I need a reason to leave the building. You’re my reason. We’ll pick the others up.”

Gabe nodded, then frowned. “You’re not going to handcuff me again, are you?”

“Only if you’re a bad boy.” 

Gabe turned quickly to hide the blush and went to his father to relay the information.

“You trust this girl?” Ellen asked, looking skeptical.

Gabe nodded. “Yeah. I do. Dad and I helped her out a few years ago. She had a bit of an…infestation…Go on. I’ll be fine.”

“You be careful.” Allen said, nodding to Megan.

“You too. See you in a bit.” He watched them go, then went back to his friend.

“Okay, we’re going out and through the lobby, out to the van. You’re being taken to the command van for questioning if anyone asks. Just follow my lead.” She smirked as she grabbed his arm. “You used to be pretty good at that.”

He laughed. “You were usually going places I wanted to follow you into.” He blushed again, his cheeks hot. She rolled her eyes and re-adjusted her grip, then she was moving forward, pulling and jerking him along toward the door.

 

Sam looked up as the door opened, his face hopeful. Pastor Jim walked Dean into the kitchen and toward a chair. Dean glanced up as he sat down, first at his father, then at Sam.

“You okay?” Sam asked softly.

Dean nodded, but didn’t speak. Jim set a plate in front of him with a sandwich and Dean dropped his eyes to look at it. He yawned. “Eat up, Dean. You need something in your stomach.”

Dean’s response was to pick the sandwich up, taking a tentative bite. 

“John, if you’ve got a minute, I’d like to talk to you.”

When they were alone, Sam looked up. “Dean?” He swallowed and when Dean didn’t answer, he decided to plow ahead anyway. “Dean, I’m sorry. I should have told you about Jessica.”

Dean cringed at the sound of her name. “I mean, she—she helped make Stanford bearable, Dean, I won’t lie to you. But she wasn’t…you.”

He stopped eating, but didn’t look up. “Sam…” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. I just…wanted you to know. I love you, Dean. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Dean nodded, then pushed back from the table. “I know you want me to be okay. I’m just…not right now. I’m going to go to bed.”

Sam bit back a need to reach out to him, to make him stay, to make him listen. Dean sighed and left Sam alone in the kitchen. It stung, like rejection. 

 

The sun was setting as Bobby banged on the side of the van to let Megan know they were done. Gorlian was in the trunk of one of the cars, Gabe was conferring with his father. Ellen pulled out her phone and dialed her daughter’s number. It rang…and again…and just as she was about to hang up, she heard something. “Jo?”

“Bad—tion…call back.”

Ellen pulled the phone from her ear and looked at it. The call had dropped. She changed tactics and dialed Ash. He didn’t answer. “Shit.”

“Ellen?”

She frowned at Bobby. “It was her…but it dropped. It was a bad connection.”

“Give it a few minutes. Try again.”

She nodded. “We ready to move?

Gabe came around the van and waved as Megan pulled out. “Well, they haven’t caught the other two Gorlians…but they seem to think they’ll have them soon…if the whole investigation doesn’t get shut down. Apparently, this whole thing is getting to be a political nightmare. An aide to the white house has been implicated, three members of the Senate Finance committee, several Generals…the list goes on…and that’s just the branch of the organization that sells domestic slaves and assassins/bodyguards.”

He thumped on the trunk where Gorlian slept. “This guy was the mastermind behind the assassin program. He used berserkers, and half-breeds and others that he trained to kill without question.”

“What about above them? Sam said the organization goes higher.” Bobby said, leaning against the car.

“If it does, no one’s found any evidence of it. Apparently there’s a vigilante group that’s been destroying property belonging to the organization, and they believe that Mr. Marvin Gorlian has already been killed in one of these raids.”

“Okay, that’s our cue.” Allen hung up his phone. “Gordon and his men are clear, they have a lead on Terrance Gorlian. The middle guy is elusive. I say we saddle up and hit the road. Get this bastard to John. Let him deal out justice.”

“Caleb, you and Bobby can ride with me.” Ellen said, moving to get into the car.

“Actually…I have something I’d like to do before I leave. I was hoping to get Gabe’s help.” 

Gabe nodded, then looked to his father. “You go with Ellen and Bobby, Dad. I’ll catch up.”

“You sure?” Allen looked Caleb over and Gabe nodded. 

“You bet, Caleb had my back. I gotta get his, right?”

Allen nodded, then pulled Gabe into a bear hug. “I’m so proud of you, Gabe. You were amazing in there.”

Gabe grinned, though he rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Go on. We’ll catch up.”

He followed Caleb to the other car and waited for him to start it. “So where we going?”

“Just have one stop to make.” Caleb’s eyes were cold and his smile a little frightening as they pulled out and turned the car back into the city.

It didn’t take long. He stopped the car outside a house and they watched through the windows as two kids bickered at the dinner table, until a woman quieted them and a man joined them. Gabe gasped, making the connection, even from across the street. “Is that?”

Caleb nodded. They watched as the family bowed their heads for a moment, then started to eat. Caleb opened his door and got out, Gabe quick to follow. “Hey…let’s consider this. What is it we’re going to do?”

“I don’t know about you, Gabe, but I plan to kill him.”

“What? Here, in front of his family?”

Caleb looked at him, then shook his head. “No. We’ll…take him away from them…first.” He pulled a gun from under the seat and headed across the street. Gabe waited by the car, watching. 

Caleb rang the doorbell and Gabe watched the man get up, wipe his face and come toward the door. The outside light came on, the door opened. Gabe watched the color drain from the man’s face. There was no doubt he knew who Caleb was and why he was there. No doubt at all.

The man turned, looked over his shoulder, said something to his wife, then he was closing the door, coming toward Gabe. The closer he got, the more Gabe shook. This was the man he’d watched beat Caleb…the man who directed the men who raped Sam. This was him.

His eyes flicked over Gabe. “Just…don’t let my kids see,” he said when he was close enough for Gabe to hear. “They…they’re little…they won’t understand.”

“Does your wife know what you do for a living?” Gabe found himself asking and the man shook his head. 

“Please…I…just follow orders…I’m…”

“Stop.” Gabe said. “I know exactly what you are. Get in the car.” He took the keys from Caleb and started the car while Caleb climbed in the back seat with Thomas. “Where?” he asked into the rear view mirror.

Caleb just shook his head. “Drive. Just drive.”


	39. Better Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to make up for his outburst, and it isn't exactly helpful. Sam gets his turn with Pastor Jim, and Thomas gets what's coming to him.

Sam knew he should have gone to bed. Should have, but couldn’t. He didn’t want to disturb Dean. He’d done that enough for one lifetime. It was after midnight. He sat alone in the living room, the remote control for the DVD player in his hand. The picture on the TV was paused on the image of him and Jess, smiling, his arms around her as she leaned into him.

It was strange, seeing her again…seeing them together. It felt like another lifetime…a world away from the one he was in. Some small part of him missed it….missed her…missed the simplicity of normal. The bigger part though…that just wanted to be able to make Dean okay…to give Dean everything he had left to give.

“Is that her?” 

Sam looked up, startled to find Dean standing beside him. He looked back at the screen with a rush of panic. He couldn’t see this…his torment documented and delivered to torment their father. “Yeah…Jessica.”

“She’s pretty.”

Sam closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, she is.”

“You didn’t come to bed.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me…wanted me to.” Sam said.

Dean’s hand was on his shoulder. He moved slowly until he was between Sam and the TV. It took a moment, but he looked up, looked Sam in the eye. Sam was startled by how much it was Dean…his brother…that looked at him.

“I always want you, Sam.” He said. He made a face, his hand settling now on Sam’s knee, just above the cast. “I’m sorry I got so upset. I didn’t communicate very well.”

Sam shook his head. “You…you were right Dean.”

“I’m not saying I wasn’t right.” There was a hint of a smile. “I was angry.” He held up his hand as Sam opened his mouth. “Let me say this, okay? I wasn’t jealous of Jessica…not entirely. I was…the whole thing, Sam. I didn’t fight with you over leaving, because you seemed to want it so much…you seemed to feel guilty for what we were doing and you never asked me what I wanted…how I felt…never gave me the chance to tell you.”

Sam sighed and swallowed with some difficulty. “I thought…when we started, you seemed reluctant, like you only did it because I wanted it. I always thought I forced you.”

“Forced me to fuck you Sam?” Dean’s voice was soft, but it cut and Sam gasped. “I felt guilty…felt like I was taking advantage of you…but I wanted you. I have always wanted you.” Dean was on his knees now, his hands on Sam’s thighs.

Sam wasn’t sure what to say, so he leaned forward to kiss Dean. It was tender, chaste. “So you aren’t angry about Jessica?” Sam asked. 

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the television and shrugged. “I’m prettier.”

Sam smiled. It was such a Dean thing to say. “Yes…you really are.” Sam said, reaching to pull him in for another kiss.

“Girly much, Sammy?” Dean joked as Sam released him. 

Sam ran a hand over Dean’s face in amazement. It was nearly like having his brother back. Dean grimaced as if he could hear Sam’s thoughts.

“Its not…”

Sam nodded. “I know.” Some of it was still pretend…but some of it wasn’t. 

“Come to bed?” Dean stood, holding out a hand to help Sam up. Sam turned off the TV and let Dean pull him to his feet. Once Dean had the door closed, he pulled Sam closer to kiss him, tender at first, then stronger, his tongue slipping over Sam’s lips until he opened them, until he melted against Dean. “Want you, Sammy…always…want you.”

Dean’s hands, strong, sure, moved over Sam’s back, gentle over wounds, and down to his ass. Sam gasped and stiffened. “Shh…Sam…won’t hurt you….could never hurt you….”

“Dean…just…slow.” Sam tried to relax, but Dean’s hands were hot and Sam couldn’t stop from pulling back, pulling away. 

Dean followed, his arms circling back around Sam’s waist, his lips tracing over Sam’s chin. “It’s okay Sam.”

“I know Dean…just…please…”

Sam pulled free and limped to the bed, breathing hard and trying to overcome the sense of panic that filled him with Dean’s touch. “I can…just…give me a minute, okay?”

Dean was behind him, touching…wanting…”Love you Sammy….love you so much.”

Sam was shaking, Dean’s hands ghosted over Sam’s shoulders. “Been so long…so long…”

Sam swallowed hard. “I know Dean…I know.” He closed his eyes as Dean’s hands slid up his sides. Dean was hard, Sam could feel him pressing against him. He could feel a half dozen hands on him besides Dean’s…could hear Thomas telling him to say please…Robert saying he loved him. Dean was pushing him forward…pushing him to the bed, tugging at his pants. “God…just…stop Dean.” Sam whispered, crawling forward onto the bed…onto the bed and away from his hands. “Just…give me…let me…let me do it.”

His heart thundered as the bed dipped. He turned, moving so his head was on a pillow, his back to Dean. Sam’s hands trembled as he hooked a thumb in the waist of his sweats and eased them down. His ass was still bruised, but healing and Dean’s touch was soft. 

Dean’s lips caressed over his exposed skin…his tongue tracing over bruises…tender, careful. Sam turned his face into the pillow. He couldn’t help the tears, but didn’t want Dean to see them. Sam grunted as the first finger penetrated, biting into the pillow to keep it from being more…to keep from crying out. Dean was whispering to him, telling him he loved him…telling him he’d go slow…saying things like _need you_ and _please_ and _miss you…miss this_.

Sam wanted to…wanted it to be okay…wanted to give Dean everything he needed…but it hurt…and his head reeled with images and sounds…and all he could think was that he wanted it to be over. He gripped the comforter as he cried into the pillow and Dean sank into him.

“Is it okay, Sam?” Dean breathed and Sam could only nod, because he couldn’t let Dean see him falling apart…couldn’t let Dean think he was hurting him…that it was too much…too soon…because Dean wanted him…Dean was hard and wanted him…and that was progress and Sam could handle it…he could give Dean what he needed. He could pretend.

He was coated in a cold sweat as Dean moved gently against him. “Please…Dean.” Just finish. 

And then Dean was coming…and fuck if that wasn’t worse. The feeling sent Sam right back to the cage…to the van…to Dennis and Robert and all the rest. He couldn’t help the sob that escaped him.

“Sam?”

Sam shook his head. He moved his hips forward, away from Dean. 

“Sam?” 

He forced himself to let go of the comforter and brought his hand up to rub his face, trying to hide the tears. “Its okay, Dean.” His voice was thick, and Dean turned him onto his back, hovering over him.

“Damn it Sam. You should have told me no.”

Sam struggled to sit up, to reach for him. “No…it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“No you’re not. Look at you.” Dean’s hand shook as it rose to caress Sam’s face. “You promised me you’d tell me when you couldn’t handle it.”

“I can…I did….it’s okay…it’s okay…” 

Dean held him while he shook. “I’m sorry Sam…I…I wasn’t thinking. I wanted you to know how much I want you…needed you to know.”

“I do know Dean. I know…and I wanted you to…I did…I…just…it was…it’s too much.”

Dean kissed over his face, kissed away the tears. “You want me to help you clean up…or just go to sleep?”

Sam clung to his hand. “Can we…just sleep? ’M tired.”

Dean nodded and guided Sam back to the mattress with one hand behind Sam’s head. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “Don’t…don’t leave.” Sam said, suddenly afraid Dean was going to go to the other bed and leave him alone.

Dean shook his head. “Not going anywhere, Sammy. Just fixing the bed, okay?” Dean eased off the bed and rearranged the sheets and comforter, pulling them up over Sam after easing the sweat pants back up over him. When he crawled in, Sam pulled him close and Dean settled in with his head on Sam’s shoulder. “Sleep, baby. Everything will be a little better tomorrow.”

 

“Here. Pull over here.”

“Here?” Gabe asked, glancing over his shoulder at Caleb. 

“Yeah, in the meadow.”

Gabe nodded and guided the car off the road. His palms were sweaty. Their prisoner was asleep…or pretending. Gabe thought it was pretend, because in his situation, Gabe wasn’t sleeping.

It was Caleb that had him worried though. Caleb was a calm man…a man known for his ethical stand. The very fact that he had agreed to so much death and destruction only showed Gabe that their cause was a good one. Now though…now Gabe wasn’t sure anymore that Caleb was thinking clearly.

Thomas was bound with duct tape at the wrists and ankles, his mouth taped shut. He had two black eyes and there was dried blood under his nose. Caleb had hit him repeatedly about an hour before in a fit of anger unlike anything Gabe had seen from him. “Caleb? Can I talk to you without our audience?”

He got out of the car, pacing a little until Caleb was there beside him. “Give me the gun.”

“What?” Caleb looked at him like he was crazy. “No. It ends here. Now.”

“I’m not saying it shouldn’t. I’m saying you’re not doing it.”

Caleb shook his head. “No. No. Gabe, I’m not letting you…your father would kill me. Kill me.”

Gabe crossed his arms. “You aren’t doing it. You’re in no shape for it.”

“I’m in the only shape I can be **to** do it, Gabe.”

“Exactly.” He held out his hand for the gun. “Caleb.”

“No.”

“Then we knock him out and take him back to the others like Gorlian.”

Caleb glared at him. “I won’t let that piece of shit anywhere near Sam.”

Gabe took a step closer, his hand still there between them. “Then give me the gun and walk away.” Caleb’s jaw tightened. “You beat a man, Caleb, an unarmed, defenseless man. That isn’t you.” He stepped still closer, the button of his jacket rubbing against the front of Caleb’s shirt. That was when he saw it. “God, Caleb.”

Gabe couldn’t look him in the eye as his hands came up, around Caleb’s neck, nimble fingers unbuckling the collar and sliding it off him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Caleb apparently hadn’t either, his free hand rising up to rub at his now empty neck. “I-I—shit.” His hand loosened on the gun, dropping it into Gabe’s waiting hand. “I…he dies.”

Gabe nodded. “Go on…pull yourself together. I’ll take care of this.”

Thomas was watching as Caleb walked away and Gabe thought he saw something like relief in his eyes. He watched Caleb until he was sure he was actually walking, then opened the door. Thomas looked up at him and Gabe leveled the gun at him. “Don’t get comfortable. That man who just walked away is a far better man than I will ever be.”

He grabbed Thomas by the hair and yanked him out of the car. He flopped to the ground, unable to do more the way Caleb had bound him. Gabe pulled a knife from under the seat and cut through the tape on Thomas’ wrists and ankles. “Stand up slowly, keep your hands where I can see them.”

Thomas did, though Gabe watched his eyes dart around, looking for a way out he supposed. “Strip.” He glared at Gabe. “Naked, now…or I start shooting random body parts.

Gabe watched as Thomas pulled his shirt off, then his pants. “Underwear too.”

When he was stark naked, Gabe moved behind him, pushing the gun into his shoulder. “Walk.” He took him a good hundred feet from the car. “On your knees.” Gabe glanced for Caleb. He was nearly to the road. “If I had time, I’d give you a taste of your own medicine. Bet I could line up about 10 hunters who’d love to take a piece of you.”

He pressed the gun into the man’s temple. “I just want you to know that I aim to email your wife the video footage of you holding Sam while the others raped him so she can know just what kind of man she was married to.”

Gabe took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. The gun echoed over the flat field and Thomas sagged to the ground. “Fuck you.” Gabe said through clenched teeth as he fought the urge to throw up. He dragged air in through his mouth to hold it down. Leaving DNA at the crime scene wasn’t a good thing. 

He squatted beside the body, staring down at the man’s dick, then at the knife in his hand. Dean had dismembered James…not that he’d seen it, but he heard. Certainly this dickhead deserved no less. Dickhead. Gabe tucked the gun in the pocket of his suit jacket and reached down to do it. He held the dick with one hand and sliced through it with the other.

He stared at it for a minute, then turned and forced the dead man’s mouth open. “Dickhead.” He shoved the dick into his mouth and laughed a little. The laughter sounded wrong…flat, dead. 

Gabe looked up, looked for Caleb. He was already starting down the road. Gabe stood, staring down at his handiwork. He’d never killed a human being before. The urge to vomit returned and he stumbled away, back toward the car. There was blood on his hands. He stared at them. Couldn’t leave it…couldn’t transfer evidence to the car.

He shook his head. “Pull it together Gabe.” He grabbed the shirt he’d made Thomas remove and scrubbed at the blood on his hands while he got in the car. They could burn the shirt later. Right now they had to go. They had to catch up to his father and the others. Had to get back to the cabin…had to deal with Gorlian. Had to tell Sam and Dean they were safe. 

Gabe had helped make them safe. Gabe had killed a man in cold blood. He shook his head. No. A monster. He’d killed a monster. A monster with a family...with kids. He stopped the car next to Caleb. Couldn’t look at him as he got out. Caleb said nothing as he got behind the wheel. Gabe crawled into the back seat, unconsciously cradling the bloody shirt to him.

 

Sam didn’t think he’d sleep after…after…but he did. He slept and he dreamed…long, brutal nightmares of men on top of him, raping him…men who whispered _Nothing. No One. Along._ and _Love you_ …men who always turned into his brother. He woke sweaty and nauseous and very aware that someone was in the room.

He couldn’t look, not at first. He regulated his breathing, let his pounding heart settle. Then he slowly opened his eyes. Pastor Jim sat in the chair next to the bed, cradling a cup of coffee. His eyes were concentrated on his coffee, but Sam could see. “How long have you been there?” 

Jim looked up…looked at him, through him. “Long enough. You all right?”

Sam nodded, sort of, and shifted so he could sit up. He was very conscious of the fact that he hadn’t showered and Dean had…they had…he shook his head and looked up at Jim. “Why are you…are you waiting for me?”

Jim smiled, soft, but there was knowing in his eyes. It made Sam uncomfortable. “Dean came downstairs a while ago and emphatically told me that today was your turn.”

“My turn?” Sam made a face and tried to find a comfortable position to sit. His ass hurt, the bruises tender as if reminded by…by what happened…that they were supposed to hurt. “You bring me any?” He pointed at the coffee cup and Jim smiled. 

He set his cup aside on the nightstand and brought a thermos up off the floor. “Dean insisted I bring it.” He poured some into a second cup and handed it to Sam. 

“Dean seems to be full of insistence this morning.” Sam murmured as he held the cup up to his face. The steam felt nice on his face. 

“Your brother’s worried about you.”

Sam closed his eyes and nodded. “He’s Dean. Of course he’s worried about me, that’s how he copes…he ignores anything that’s wrong with him and worries about me. Always has.”

“Funny, he said the same about you…that you were burying what was wrong and worrying over him.”

Sam frowned. “Me? No. I’m…I’m figuring out that I’ve never thought about Dean enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve always thought about me…what was good for me. Never bothered to see what Dean wanted…never thought about how it would affect him.” He chewed on his lip. “I’m a selfish bastard….and Dean…Dean always made it so easy.”

Jim nodded, though Sam wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or just to encourage him to continue. “Dean would always do anything for you, Sam.”

“Yeah…I know. And I took advantage of that.” Sam sipped at his coffee. “I have always just taken it…everything he gave me…just took it like it was somehow supposed to be mine.”

“And now?”

Sam sighed. Now. Now when everything was fucked to hell and Dean was so broken Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to put it all back together… “I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should start with what you and Dean fought about.”

Sam shook his head. No. He wasn’t having that conversation with Pastor Jim. “It was…” He moved so that he could lean against the headboard. “When I first got him back, when he was so deeply conditioned he didn’t even know his own name, I had to give him things to do to placate the conditioned need to please his owner…and…there was this thing he used to do when I was little…where he soothed me to sleep by touching and kissing my face….” Sam swallowed and glanced up. Jim’s face was the same, open, patient.

“He…he was doing that and I stopped him. He didn’t understand…and before I could explain, I got a phone call.”

“The one from Jessica?”

Sam nodded miserably. “It was a reminder that I had a whole other life…that while he was being…abused…I was living my life…one he knew nothing about. And he was there…”

“Being raped and beaten.” 

Sam huddled into himself, sipping at his coffee and trying to hide the shaking of his hands. “He was angry. And he had every right to be. I…I didn’t…I left him…you know? I…pushed him away…left to go to school…”

“Do you think it was the wrong thing to do?”

“No….I mean…not for me. I was trying to…find something…”

“Something more?”

“More?” Sam looked at him, confused.

“Dean thinks you left for school because he wasn’t enough.”

Sam groaned and took a slow breath. “No…Dean…if anything he was too much. He was everything. I didn’t know anything outside of him…Him and Dad.”

“He thinks that you look at him differently now.” Jim said, watching Sam closely.

He could feel the older man’s eyes. “I know he looks at me differently.” He closed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to say that. “I mean…I am different, you know?”

“Then why do you pretend to be the same?” 

Panic welled up inside Sam. He swallowed and looked away. “I…don’t…”

“I know why Dean does. He tries to be who he remembers being, who he remembers you loved.”

“God.” Sam rubbed a hand over his face. “I love him…I don’t care if he’s never the brother he used to be.” He squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear Dean’s urgent whisper the night before, feel his hands. “Fuck.”

“Sam?” Jim’s hand was on his cast, careful not to touch skin. 

Sam shook his head and tried to breathe more slowly. “Just….a flashback…” he curled forward as the gentle caress of Dean’s hand gave way to a fist in his hair, a cock thrust into his mouth. “Fuck.” He reached out for Jim’s hand, squeezing it as he pushed the memory away. “Sorry.” He drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes.

“Dean said he may have triggered some bad memories last night.”

Sam nodded, letting go of his hand. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“No offense Sam, but no, you really aren’t okay. None of you are. That’s why I’m here.”


	40. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Jim continue their conversation, Gabe starts to realize what he's done, Jim makes a confession to John, and there is an abundance of showering going on.

Sam sat back and didn’t look at Pastor Jim. “What else did Dean say?”

Jim pulled his hand back and went back to cradling his coffee. “He said he might have hurt you and that I needed to get you to talk.”

“He…didn’t hurt me.” Sam said breathlessly. “Not…physically.”

“I think you’ve had enough psychology classes to know that not all pain is physical Sam.”

“Yeah…I get it, I know…I do…I just…I’m okay…I have to be okay.”

“Why?”

“What?” Sam looked up, startled by the question.

“Why do you have to be okay? If you’re not, I mean. Why pretend?”

Sam groaned. “Dean…he’s…it was so much more for him…he said it himself…I was only there for four days.” Four days and he folded. “And seeing it…what they did to him…how long he fought…I have to be okay for him.”

“Well, if he’s pretending to be okay for you and you're pretending to be okay for him, how do you think either one of you will ever get through this?”

Sam shook his head. 

“So, why don’t you tell me what Dean did? How did he hurt you?”

Sam felt himself flushing. He hid behind the coffee cup, drinking instead of answering. He couldn’t tell Pastor Jim that. Couldn’t tell him that Dean fucking him had brought back the rape…and given him nightmares. 

“Did he touch you, Sam?”

“God. Fuck. I can’t…” He exhaled sharply. “No. I mean, yes, he touched me.” Sam froze. He didn’t just say that.

“How did he touch you?”

“He…it was…nothing…I’d just…” He couldn’t think clearly, his mind stuck on the whispers of Dean’s voice, the touch of his hand, urgent to make Sam know he loved him. “Too much…the DVDs…and…his…trying…” He couldn’t quite cut off the sob and turned away, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Sam, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

“Not this. No. Not this.” He cringed as the memory flooded him again, and he could hear Jim talking, but couldn’t make out the words. He fought his way clear, pushed the tears away. “I…I want to…be alone….I’m sorry…I just…can’t do this right now.”

“Okay, Sam. I’ll give you some space, some time. But I will come back.”

 

Gabe felt the car slowing, stopping. He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep. Before he was fully aware of himself, he heard voices. Caleb, his father. He sat up slowly. It was the middle of the day, the parking lot of some truck stop. He went to rub his eyes, but stopped as he saw the dried blood. 

Blood. A lot of blood.

Then he remembered. He remembered shooting that man. Shooting him straight and cold and dead. Remembered cutting him. He closed his eyes and breathed through a wave of nausea. Then the car door was opened and his father was looking at him. Looking at him with eyes that said he knew…eyes that apologized and told him he was proud and eyes that wanted to know if he was okay.

“Dad.” It came out weak and shaky, and Allen was reaching for him, pulling him to the door. His father hugged him close, held him tight.

When he finally let go, Allen ruffled a hand through Gabe’s hair. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Gabe nodded numbly and followed when his father led him through the little store to the back where the truckers showers were. Gabe bent over himself, hiding his bloody hands and clothes under the jacket his father slung around his shoulders.

“We’ll get you cleaned up and get some food in your stomach before we head out.” Allen said as he got the water going and helped Gabe strip. 

The water was hot and it felt good, and Gabe hadn’t realized how cold he was until he got under it. “I’m going to go get you some clothes Gabe. You just relax.”

Gabe heard the door open and close and tilted his head to let the water flow over his face. His head was filled with images of that man with his family…of two little boys who would never know what had happened…why their Daddy never came home. 

He started shaking. He was cold, even with the hot water stinging his skin. There had to be something wrong with him. Had to be. He was fucked up…ever since Dean had grabbed him, ever since his father had told him what had happened to Dean…Dean, of all people. Gabe hadn’t been thinking clearly since. And now…now…he turned the shower up hotter, trying to clean his skin of the feeling of the blood. He scrubbed at his hands, and was still scrubbing them when the door opened again.

He whimpered as he scraped his fingers over raw skin and his father’s head peeked around the curtain. “Gabe, you okay?”

Gabe shook his head. “I killed him…I shot him…just shot him.”

Allen nodded and stepped into the shower after kicking off his shoes. “I know. It’s okay, Gabe.”

“No…he…he was a man, Dad. He had kids….what’s going to happen to his kids?” Gabe shook his head. What was he saying? His father grabbed his hands, stopped the scrubbing. 

“Gabe, look at me.” His father’s clothes were getting wet and for a moment, Gabe couldn’t figure out why. “Gabriel. Eyes, now.”

Gabe responded to the tone, if not the words, his eyes snapping to his father’s. “You did the right thing. Hear me?”

“I know. But…god Dad. I shot him and I…fuck.” He squeezed his eyes shut. He could see Thomas laying there, the black circle of the entry wound in his temple, his eyes frozen open…naked…and there was so much blood…it coated his hands…”I cut him…I…god, what is wrong with me?”

His father’s arms folded around him, holding him, caressing down his back. “Nothing’s wrong with you Gabe. You’re okay.”

“No…you didn’t see…what I did.”

“You shot a man who was evil, a monster. He deserved worse”

Gabe stared down at the walls of the shower stall. He’d been angry…that cold kind of anger that settles in deep. “I made him take off his clothes.” He had wanted to…would have…”I wanted to hurt him…wanted to….” He was shaking again and his father pulled back, putting his hands on either side of Gabe’s face.

“Gabe, you did the right thing.”

Gabe shook his hand, hands and all. “I cut his dick off.” He looked down at his hands, expecting them to be covered in blood. “Why…how could I do that? What’s wrong with me?”

Allen nodded, as if suddenly understanding where the blood had come from. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”

“No…I was careful…I was good…and…” Gabe pulled back, away, looking down at his hands again. “I…the shirt…I, it’s covered in blood…we have to burn it. We have to…” 

Allen grabbed him again. The water was starting to run cold. “Gabe, the shirt is taken care of. Ellen has it and the clothes you were wearing. She’s going to burn them all, okay? We’re taking care of it.”

Gabe nodded and shivered. “I killed him.”

Allen nodded and reached behind Gabe to turn off the water. “You hungry? Bobby’s got us a table in the restaurant.”

“Cold.” 

Allen pushed open the shower curtain and pulled two towels from the rack, settling one around Gabe’s shoulders, and using the other to start rubbing Gabe dry. “Okay, step out. Let’s get you dressed.”

Gabe turned as they stepped clear of the shower, stopping to stare at the mirror. He’d almost forgotten about the hair cut, and with his hair slicked back and wet he looked older…different. “Dean.” He shook his head. “How are they, Dean and Sam?”

Allen looked up at his son, handing him a pair of boxers to put on. “They’re…as good as can be expected, Gabe.”

Gabe stepped into the boxers and held out his hand for the jeans. “Good. Do they know we’re coming?”

Allen nodded. “Yeah, we talked to John a little while ago. He’s setting up a place for us to deal with Gorlian.”

“Jo and Ash? Did Ellen get a hold of them?”

Allen pulled the price tag off of a sweatshirt that he handed to Gabe. “Yes, they’re meeting us at the cabin. Ash thinks that you can help him track down how they’re watching the cabin.”

Gabe turned suddenly. “They’re watching the cabin?”

“Ellen didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“Someone delivered a box of DVDs to the cabin.”

Gabe felt his face drain of color. “There was a message on one of them, something to the effect that as long as John doesn’t leave the cabin, they won’t be hurt.”

“Fuck!”

“Gabe.”

He shook his head. “No. I checked that place. I checked a one mile perimeter around that place. There was nothing. I put up dampers. One in each bedroom, two downstairs. That place is clean.”

Allen frowned at him. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. No one’s getting as much as a sound recording.”

“Finish getting dressed. We’ll figure it out.”

 

Pastor Jim Murphy was not a man who flustered easily. Working with the hunter community had taught him a lot about taking things in stride, even things his collar might otherwise make him blanch over. He was not naïve or stupid.

So when John found him sitting on the trunk of his car with a bottle of Irish Whiskey half way to gone, it was a dead give away that just maybe he’d come up against something that went beyond what he’d come prepared to handle.

Jim didn’t look at him as he offered the bottle. John took it after a moment’s hesitation and tipped it back. “I know you warned me that it was…bad.”

He took a drink from the bottle, then set it on the trunk beside him. “I know you said rape and I know you said they needed someone…someone not you to talk to. I didn’t realize…I mean…who would?”

“I should have told you more. I’m sorry.”

Jim shook his head. “No, John. It’s not your fault. I couldn’t expect you to tell me…not when it’s your boys. Not when _that_ has been done to your boys.”

“Jim…I don’t even know what to say.”

He nodded. “I know the feeling.” He was quiet for a minute, then took a slow, deep breath. “How long have you known?” 

John didn’t answer, didn’t look up. He scuffed his boot through the gravel of the drive way. 

“I suspected. That last time the boys came by without you? When they brought me those books, before Sam left. But…you never…I figured I had imagined it. But then, Dean…the way he needs Sam…the way he needs to take care of Sam.” Jim reached for the bottle again, rolling it in his hands. “Those boys of yours John…they were fucked up about sex long before either one of them was raped.”

John nodded slowly, his hands in his pockets. “I…didn’t know. Not until recently.” He turned, looking at Jim. “Look…if it’s too much…if you want to leave, I understand. I won’t hold it against you.”

That finally made Jim look up. “I’m not leaving John. I said they were fucked up, not that I was leaving.”

John met his gaze evenly. “I’m not saying I condone it, or that I like it or what have you…but they need one another right now. I’m not letting anything get between them.”

Jim managed a smile. “I know. I know John. Sam’s the only thing that’s going to bring Dean back, and Dean’s the only thing Sam’s pulling himself out of the dark for right now…and if they don’t kill each other with the pretending to be okay and the trying so damn hard to be who they think they’re supposed to be, they might get through this.”

 

“Sam?” Dean pushed open the door and Sam looked up from the laptop.

“Hey.”

“Busy?”

“Digging through the stuff Gabe sent.”

Dean nodded and came to sit on the end of the bed. “I’m sorry.”

Sam frowned at him and shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Dean rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “You keep saying that.”

“Eventually it will be true.” Sam countered, crossing his arms too. “Isn’t that what you told me?”

Dean made a face. He hadn’t expected Sam to throw it back at him. “Yeah…okay, so maybe I’m starting to see a drawback to the whole pretending plan.”

They were quiet for a minute, then Sam reached for his hand. “You seem to be doing better.”

“Pastor Jim told me that it’s okay to be…whoever I end up being. That I don’t have to try so hard to be…him.”

Sam lifted the hand he was holding and pressed a kiss to his palm. “I love you…whoever you are.”

“Yeah?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

Dean leaned forward until he was lying with his head on Sam’s thigh. “I love you too Sam.”

“See…and that’s better than the old Dean, any day.” Sam said softly, brushing a kiss over his forehead.

Dean smiled and sighed softly. “I think he knows.”

“Pastor Jim?” 

Dean nodded and Sam echoed the motion. “Yeah…I think he does. I…freaked out a little on him earlier.”

Dean turned to look up at him. “But you talked, right? Because after…what I did…you…you need to talk about it.”

“We talked Dean.” Sam blew out softly. “And you? Are you really talking to him?” Sam asked.

Dean made his traditional don’t-want-to-talk face and sighed. “Yeah. I mean…we’ve talked.” He looked up into Sam’s face, trying to find the words. “I can say stuff to him…stuff I don’t think I could tell Dad.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah…I know.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Sam shook his head. “You didn’t. I could have told you no. Maybe I should have.” He ran a hand through his hair. 

“You promised me you would tell me.” Dean pulled his hand up, ran a finger over the ring. “When it’s too much to pretend…when it’s not okay. You promised.” He twined his fingers through Sam’s. 

“I know Dean. I’m sorry.”

They were quiet again and Dean pulled their joined hands closer to his chest. “Do you think…do you think we can be okay…even if we’re never the same?” Dean closed his eyes and chuckled. “God I sound like a girl.”

“Yeah, you do…and yeah, I do.”

 

Gabe felt cornered sitting against the window in the booth. His father sat beside him, bantering easily with the waitress. Bobby sat across from him, his eyes darting between Gabe and Caleb at the end of the table.

He kept his hands under the table, hidden. They felt sticky, even though he knew they were clean. He looked up as Ellen joined them. She smiled brightly at the waitress and ordered something without even looking at the menu. 

Gabe could feel her eyes on him and looked away, out the window. He felt like he was on display…like everyone who looked at him could see what he’d done. “Our passenger has been freshly dosed. He should sleep the rest of the way.” Ellen said.

“Good. I was getting tired of him kicking me in the back.” Bobby said.

“We should change up. Caleb, you ride with Ellen. Gabe can ride with me and Bobby.” Allen said.

Gabe turned to look at Caleb. He didn’t know how he felt about that. About Caleb leaving him. And wasn’t that just plain dumb. But his father was right. Just in case. 

The waitress set his plate in front of him. Gabe stared at it. The thought was strange, that he should be sitting in some restaurant eating a burger. Not that he knew where he should be instead. He felt eyes on him and looked up to see Caleb watching him. Gabe sighed and picked up his hamburger. He’d done it to spare Caleb. He couldn’t let Caleb feel guilty for it now. 

 

John finished putting a few touches on the shed out behind the cabin. It was roomy enough to hold a riding lawn mower, that he didn’t think had worked in years, and various tools. He’d cleaned it out, put in some hooks and run some chains. He only needed to find a few locks.

He was grimy and needed a shower as he trudged back up to the house. It felt good to have something to do. Let him take his mind off the fact that the man responsible for this whole thing was on his way, or that someone was still watching them. 

As he rounded the corner of the house, a beat up pick up was kicking up dust as it came up the drive from the road. He stopped beside the stairs to the porch, his heart pounding. The pounding eased when a blonde head peeked out the window, and then the doors were opening and he could see Jo.

“I told you it was the right turn.” Jo said to Ash as he rolled his eyes at her.

“Yeah, but I was the one who figured out you had us going the wrong way in the first place.” They both stopped in front of John. “Hey.”

“Ash, Jo. Glad you’re both all right.”

“My ass is numb.” Jo said, glaring at Ash. “We’ve been driving for days because this one wouldn’t stop.”

“You must be tired then.”

“With the amount of coffee she drinks? It’s a wonder she sleeps at all.”

John smiled, though he was less amused than annoyed. “Well, there’s a room at the end of the hall. Jo, that was the room your mother was staying in. You can crash there. Ash, you can sleep in Gabe’s room. It’s the one three doors down from the stairs, on the right.”

“Gotta love this place.” Ash said starting up the stairs. “Andrew calls it a flipping cabin, but it’s more like a manor in the woods.”

“How long have you known Andrew?” John asked as he followed them inside.

Ash shrugged. “Most of my life. He and my father worked together.”

“So do I finally get to meet those boys of yours?” Jo asked, slipping an arm through John’s.

He grinned at her. “Eventually. They’re resting right now. They’ll probably come down for dinner though.”

“Mmm…dinner. I’m starving.” 

“As soon as I get cleaned up I’ll start cooking.”

“You want me to work on the data Gabe sent?” Ash asked.

John shook his head. “You’ve been driving a long time. Rest. Sam’s been working at it and Gabe will be here sometime tonight.”

John stopped at the door to the bathroom. “I really am glad you’re okay.” He kissed Jo’s forehead and sent her toward Ellen’s room. The door to the boys’ room opened and Dean peeked out. 

“Everything okay?”

John nodded. “Ash and Jo are here. So watch yourself.” He nodded at Dean, and Dean nodded back. 

“Yeah. We will.”

“You need anything?”

“No…Sam’s sleeping. I’m just…here.”

“Jim’s down by the creek, if you want to talk.”

Dean shrugged. “Kinda talked out for now.”

John nodded. He could understand that. “I’m gonna get cleaned up, then start some dinner.” Dean nodded and closed the door and John closed the bathroom door, stripping out of his dirty t-shirt even before he’d started the shower. It was as he stepped into it that his mind filled with images of Dean…broken, defeated, held up by another man…another slave. Being washed and instructed. 

He closed his eyes and turned into the water, willing it to wash the images away. They were only replaced by images of Dean holding Sam, washing him and soothing him. He shook his head and forced his mind to other images, to the blaze as the compound burned…to what he planned to do to Michael Harvelle when he got his hands on him.

 

Sam sighed in frustration as he tried to pull himself up off the bed. The whole thing with this cast was getting really old. He got to his feet just as Dean opened the door. “Everyone’s downstairs, so if you want to shower, now’s the time.” 

Sam nodded and reached for the crutches. “I cut that pair of jeans so I might look like an actual person when I go downstairs.”

“Dude, we’re going to have to get you all new clothes when you get that cast off.”

“I’d wear yours, but they’d be high waters.”

Dean chuckled and held up the trash bag. “Okay gigantor, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dean stripped right beside Sam once they were in the bathroom, climbing in behind him. “What?”

“I know how to shower.”

“I’m saving water.”

“You’re lame. You haven’t used that excuse since that time in Wichita, when Dad caught us in the shower together.”

Dean pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Stop fussing and wash.”

Sam moved forward enough to give Dean some room, then turned to reach for the shampoo. “I’ll be so grateful to have this damn thing off.”

“Hmmm…me too.” Dean soaped up a washcloth and washed Sam’s back. He stiffened a little, then relaxed. “I want my car back.”

“Your car?”

“We left it behind when we came after your sorry ass.” Dean said, handing the washcloth to Sam and turning around. “As soon as you can drive, we’re going back for it.”

Sam washed over Dean’s back. “I’m sorry. I haven’t even thought about the car.”

“I had a dream about it.” Dean’s grin was devious. “Remember Diedre Cohen?”

“The red head in Glaser?” 

“Oh yeah…Her daddy caught us out at Inspiration Point…broke out the back window.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, and you told Dad some big rig was throwing out gravel and blew it out.”

Dean turned back around and kissed Sam unexpectedly. “I miss it.”

“What? Getting chased by fathers for making out with their girls?”

“No…the road. The hunt.” Dean shook his head. “Music pouring out of the speakers, on the road…you and me…chasing after some bad thing. The black and white of knowing what is right, what has to be done.”

Sam nodded, though he looked less enthused than Dean felt about the idea. “When this is done…when…you’re cast is off and this is…done, I want that again.” He ran his hands through Sam’s soapy hair, helping the water wash it out as he turned them again. “What about you Sammy? You want that?”

Sam stepped closer, pulling Dean into his arms. “I want to be with you Dean…wherever, whatever…I don’t care…I just don’t ever want to be away from you again.”


	41. Suspicion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean meet Jo and Ash, Sam and Pastor Jim take another turn at talking, and the hunters en route to rendezvous with the Winchesters start considering who could still be watching.

“Boys.” Sam and Dean stopped at the bottom of the stairs, Dean steadying Sam when his crutch slipped a little. “We have company.”

Sam’s grin was a little lopsided and a little less than comfortable as his eyes flashed to the two newcomers. “This is Ellen’s daughter Jo, and…Ash.”

Dean was the first to recover, moving in front of Sam to shake Ash’s hand. “I’m Dean, this is my brother Sam.” He smiled at Jo as she took his hand with a firm grip. “Your mother certainly is an awesome woman.”

“Yeah, if you aren’t her daughter.” 

Sam chuckled. “Let me guess, only child?”

She tossed her blonde head and looked at him. She couldn’t have been fifteen, maybe sixteen. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s a lot like being the youngest, only worse.” He spared a glance at his father. “It’s okay. Your mom? She just looking out for you.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Ash said. “For the last four days.” Sam could almost feel the eyes Ash swept over him. “That looks nasty,” he said, looking at Sam’s leg.

Sam dismissed it almost casually. “It’s getting better.”

“I was hoping to get my hands on the stuff Gabe sent you.”

“After dinner.” John intervened. “We can’t do anything with it tonight anyway.”

He led them into the kitchen and Sam could tell Ash was irritated with his father’s brusque commanding style. “I got through some of it,” he said as Dean helped him to a seat and set his crutches aside. 

“Find anything interesting?” Ash asked as he helped himself to the plate of burgers.

“Well, it seems Michael Harvelle was married for a while. Had two sons. Then the mother and boys fall of the map.”

“Did you search his aliases?” Ash asked, even as he was stuffing a mouthful of macaroni salad into his mouth.

Sam smirked. “Yeah, the internet connection here is amazing.”

Ash nodded. “Like that? Wired it myself. Was a bitch this far out from the hub.”

“So, I hit all the aliases I could find in the information we have, and there’s nothing.”

“So you’re saying that I have two cousins out there somewhere that I’ve never met?” Jo asked, reaching over the table for the mustard. “Creepy. I mean, they could be anybody…I could fall in love with my own cousin and never know it.”

“Happens more than you might imagine.” John said, glancing at Dean who was smirking around his burger.

“Still…creepy. And gross.” She seemed to think about it, and made a face and shuddered. “Seriously gross. Could you imagine having sex with your own cousin?”

“Guess I’m glad we don’t have any cousins then.” Sam said quietly. He didn’t have to look up to feel the look his father gave him. Dean kicked him under the table and Sam glanced at him. 

He was saved from any further abuse by the front door opening. Pastor Jim came in, a plastic bag in his hand. Jo jumped up from the table to hug him, practically wrapping her teenage body around the older man. “Pastor Jim! I didn’t know you were here! I’m so happy to see you.”

“Jo, you’re choking me.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She let him go and almost daintily stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Jim held up the bag and set it aside on the counter. “Got four, think it’ll be enough?”

John nodded and pointed him toward a plate. Sam looked at the bag, then to his father. “Something you aren’t telling us?”

John shook his head. “Nothing for you to worry about. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“Dad—“

“Sam, it isn’t open for discussion. You and Dean will stay out of it, if I have to tie you to your beds.”

“Now wait. I agree, Sam should—“

John poked his fork toward Dean. “Stop. I’ve made up my mind. You know I’ll do it too.”

Sam looked at his brother and weighed the notion of arguing. The tone was one that was nearly impossible to battle through. Dean shrugged. “I want a piece of him before it’s over.” Sam said softly without looking away from Dean.

“Sam.” 

Jim sat at the empty plate and started filling his plate. “I think your father’s right, Sam. You have enough you need to deal with. You and Dean both.”

Sam looked from Jim to his father, than spared a glance at Jo who was watching the entire exchange. It suddenly dawned on him that they were talking about her uncle. He blinked. “Sorry.”

Her face was white and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Great. It wasn’t bad enough he had Gabe looking at him that way.

“No…it’s okay,” she said finally, when she’d figured out what he was apologizing for. “I don’t even know him.”

The table was quiet then, and Sam turned his eyes to his plate and kept them there. He was tired of being treated like he was fragile. Tired of everyone watching what they said. Of feeling like they were disgusted by him or pitied him. 

Dean’s foot was against his calf under the table, and Sam responded by pulling his legs back under his chair. He got through half his food and felt sick…sick of the whole thing. He pushed his chair back and stood, balancing lightly while he reached for his crutches. 

“Sam?” 

He didn’t look at his father, or at Dean. “I’m gonna go back upstairs. That way I’m out of the way when they get here.”

“It’ll be hours yet.” John offered, his voice softer now than it had been. 

Sam shook his head. “Not up to being much company tonight Dad. Got a headache.” He turned and headed for the stairs, though Dean’s hand stopped him when he would have started up them. “Go eat Dean. I’m fine.”

“You promised.” Dean said quietly.

Sam closed his eyes and turned to him. “I’m fine, Dean. I’m angry. I want to watch him die.” He tried to keep his voice low. “I want to see the face of the man who did this to us. Who took you away from me…who made these…things happen to you and me…and all the others. I want to show him that he underestimated us. I want to cut his skin and watch him bleed.” His voice was ratcheting up and he wasn’t sure he could stop it. “You want me to tell you when it isn’t okay? Well fine. It fucking isn’t fucking fine, Dean. And if it isn’t fine for me it sure as hell isn’t fine for you and you just give in. You don’t even fight. You don’t raise your voice, you don’t disagree…you just…fucking…follow orders!”

John and Jim appeared at the kitchen door. Sam turned away and tried the stairs again. Dean still held his arm. Dean looked at the floor, at the stairs, anywhere but up into Sam’s face. “Actually, Sam. I agree with Dad.” He said it quietly, but it had the force of a shotgun. “I mean, I want it too. I want it so badly I can taste blood Sam. I can taste it. I want to strip him naked and fuck his ass with a tree branch. I want to rip the skin off his back and feed it to him for fucking breakfast.” His hand shifted, sliding down Sam’s arm to his hand. “That’s how I know Dad is right. Because I shouldn’t want that. I’m a hunter Sam. Not one of them. So are you.”

Dean’s eyes met Sam’s. “You hear me Sam? You aren’t one of them.”

Sam stared into the green of his brother’s eyes for a long time before he nodded slowly. “Yeah, Dean. I hear you.” He sighed and looked up at his father and Pastor Jim. “Can I go upstairs now?” Sam asked and Dean nodded, letting go of him. 

Dean started to follow, but a hand descended on his shoulder. “Let me, Son.” Jim said. “You go finish your dinner.” Dean wanted to argue, but Jim shook his head. “This is why I’m here.”

Jim followed Sam, catching the bedroom door when Sam would have slammed it closed. “You’re still angry.”

Sam didn’t turn around. “Fuck yeah I’m angry. I was **raped** , repeatedly. I think I deserve to be angry.”

“Didn’t say you didn’t deserve it.”

“Yeah, fuck you to.” Sam threw one crutch away, into the corner of the room. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You were right about the psych classes.”

“I’m just here to talk to, Sam.”

“Right. And I can tell you anything, right? Cause you’re a man of god or whatever? If you only knew.”

“Knew what?”

Sam shook his head and limped a little closer to the window. “If you knew, you wouldn’t be standing there so casually.” He crossed his arms and leaned into the wall.

“I promise you Sam, there isn’t anything you can say—“

“No? You don’t know me, Pastor Jim. Hell, even Dean doesn’t know me…what I’m capable of…what I’ve done to get here.” 

“Why don’t you tell me then?”

Sam turned so his back was against the wall. “You really want to know? Want to hear about the men I’ve killed?” He could see in Jim’s eyes he hadn’t expected that. “Yeah. Killed. Tortured and left for dead. I’m not the innocent little boy they want me to be. And that was _before_ they grabbed me and fucked me six ways to Sunday.” 

“Dean only wants to protect you.”

Sam chuckled coldly and shook his head. “Maybe it’s time for him to realize I’m not the fifteen year old baby brother anymore. Maybe he should realize that it’s time for me to protect him.”

“How would killing Gorlian protect Dean?”

Sam sighed explosively. “Dean…hasn’t…killed…he’s…not in the same way…he’s not innocent exactly, but James…it was a heat of the moment thing, self defense. Not…not this. Not straight premeditated murder.”

“You might be surprised.”

It was Sam’s turn to be surprised, looking up quickly. “What?”

“You and your brother should spend some time really talking, Sam. He’s killed for you too. Told me about a group of men that came for him after you were taken. He shot them all. While they were bound and gagged.”

Sam groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “How did we get this fucked up?”

Jim stepped closer. “It starts with being hunters, Sam. Hunters are…a different breed. I love your Daddy like a brother, but you were never raised to be normal.”

“But hunters don’t kill. Dean said it himself. What I’ve done makes me no better than them…than Gorlian and the men he hired. If Dean knew…” Sam closed his eyes. If Dean knew, he’d never look at Sam the same way. If Dean knew what all he’d done in his efforts to find him…

“Sam?”

A tear leaked out of one eye and Sam lowered his head. “I’m not the boy he loves…loved…if he ever did.”

“Of course he loves you, Sam. He’s your brother. You are the world to him, you always have been.”

“I manipulated him. Used him. This was never his fault.”

Pastor Jim put his hands in his pockets and stared out the window. “I take it that now we’re talking about you and Dean in a different context.”

“With me and Dean I’m not entirely sure that there are different contexts.” Sam said softly. “There’s just this insane, fucked to hell thing we have. Brothers, best friends, rivals, lovers. It’s all the same.” Sam took a deep breath. “I…figured you knew…but there, it’s just…what it is.”

Jim nodded slowly. “I suspected before now. I knew after I got here though.”

“I’m sorry, I realize it probably makes you uncomfortable.” Sam sighed and hobbled over to the bed.

“This isn’t about my comfort Sam, it’s about you and Dean and healing from this terrible, horrific thing that’s happened to you.”

“I used to imagine Dad finding out. I figured he’d freak out, kick us out…sometimes I wondered if he’d blame Dean.”

“Because he’s older?”

Sam nodded. “It wasn’t his fault though. I knew he’d never say no to me…I was the one who pursued it. I was the one who pushed him.”

“Your brother loves you Sam. It’s an incredible thing really, the love you two have for one another. It’s probably the only thing that’s going to get you both through this. But you have to start dealing with it, not just pretending you’re okay.”

Sam nodded and pulled the cast up on the bed, slipping long fingers into the top of it to scratch. “I know. It…isn’t easy.”

Jim smiled at that. “I don’t expect it is.”

Sam licked his lips. “When you asked me…before…if Dean touched me…” His mouth was dry and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. “He…I let him…but…it was too soon…too much. He needed to tell me something…and…and he’s never been big with words…you know?”

It was all right there, just below the surface and if he breathed deep enough it would flow into his veins. “I…didn’t want to. I couldn’t tell him though.”

“So you let him touch you?”

Sam nodded again, closing his eyes. “He…was trying to apologize…for being angry about Jessica. He was aroused…and that meant he’d overcome some of the programming…and I’d…shut him down earlier…I couldn’t’…I couldn’t say no.” Sam was starting to pant, feeling fingers on his body. “But…it was too much…and I couldn’t pretend….it was…it was like being there all over again…and I felt guilty.”

“Guilty? What did you feel guilty for Sam?”

“Because he…endured so much more than I did…and I couldn’t tell him that I knew…and I couldn’t help how I reacted…”

“You seem to think that because Dean was there longer, that he had more abuse piled on to him that you are somehow not entitled to react to what happened to you.”

“He was gone a year before I found him. When I found him…” Sam took a deep breath. “God, he was…and now that I’ve seen…what it took to break him. How can the four days I was there even begin to compare?”

Jim crossed to the bed, sitting slowly. “What you need to understand Sam is that no matter if you were there one day or a thousand…whether you were raped once or a dozen times, you have every right to react…You shouldn’t compare yourself to Dean.”

 

“You’re awfully quiet.” Ellen said, glancing aside at Caleb.

Caleb nodded. “Don’t have much to say.” He stared out the window, though it was dark and there was nothing to see.

“You okay?”

“Don’t know.”

“That’s not any kind of answer.”

“You want me to explain what happened, and I don’t know that I can.”

“You let that boy—“

“He’s more of a man than you imagine, Ellen. He…he was almost frightening in there with Gorlian.”

“Still, Caleb…he’s eighteen.”

Caleb nodded. “I know. I can’t explain it. He…he was…” He closed his eyes, remembering the look in Gabe’s eyes in the meadow, the way his fingers were gentle as he undid the collar and slipped it off his neck. “He was right…I would never have been able to live with it if I’d done it.”

“But he can?”

Caleb shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know.” He sighed and looked at her. “I don’t know, Ellen. I’ve never been this unsure of myself.”

 

Gabe stiffened in his sleep and Allen sighed. Bobby followed Ellen’s tail lights and they were making good time. They should make the cabin by midnight.

There was no sign of being followed, and the news was filled with stories about an FBI sting operation in Austin that was likely to lead to the arrests of several prominent businessmen. No word yet on a dead body found outside of Austin…but then a single murder probably wouldn’t make the national news, and they were far enough outside of Texas that they weren’t getting regional stuff anymore.

“He’s a good kid, Allen. With a good head on his shoulders. He’ll be fine.”

Allen nodded. “I’m his father, I’m supposed to worry.”

“I know.” Bobby pressed his lips together and stared out at the road.

Allen kicked himself. “I’m sorry.”

“I wish everyone would stop apologizing. Robert got what he deserved. My only regret is that I let Sam do it, when I should have done it myself.” Bobby thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel, then deftly changed the subject. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah?”

Bobby nodded. “About the cabin, and somebody watching. What if the reason Gabe didn’t find anything is that they aren’t doing it remotely. What if they’re using good old fashioned eyeballing?”

“No electronics to detect.” Allen nodded. “Harder to trace, especially if they’re good.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“And we know they’re good. No one plays John Winchester like that.”

“Or Dean for that matter.” Bobby glanced aside at Allen. “We also have to consider that we only have one of the three Gorlians. Granted, we have who we assume is the head guy…but, the others can’t be forgotten.”

“No…that reminds me. In the heat of everything I forgot.” He pulled out his phone and dialed quickly. “Hey, Joe, Allen.” He held up his hand when he saw Bobby’s question. “Did you confirm? Okay. Get back to me when you do.” He sighed explosively. “We have reason to believe that Terrance, the one Sam tangled with in NY, was at the facility in Florida. If he was, he’s dead.”

“Joe’s working it?”

Allen nodded. “I called him when things went bad. Knew we’d need back up to do the clean up. He’s getting more information as the coroner’s office works through the bodies.”

“So…maybe we only have one more out there?”

Allen shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You want the rest?”

Allen raised an eyebrow as he looked at the older man. “Rest?”

“I told you, I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah, okay…what’s the rest?”

“We need to go back to the beginning. Maybe Robert wasn’t the only one who was involved.”

“What are you saying?”

“How many people knew we were going to that cabin? Ellen didn’t even tell us until we were nearly there. I assume she had to tell Andrew, since it’s his place and all.”

“Are you suggesting that Andrew is involved?

“I’m suggesting someone is. Someone who knows the cabin. Someone who knew we were there. Someone patient and capable of hunting hunters.”

“I don’t know if I can fathom that. I mean…I _know_ Andrew. I’ve hunted with Andrew.”

“There is one other person…but even I can’t wrap my head around that.”

Allen shook his head. “Pastor Jim?”

“The DVDs **did** appear just when he did…but…I mean…I’d trust Jim with my life.”

“No, it isn’t…it can’t be…” Allen shook his head. “He’d have had ample opportunities over the years. I can’t fathom Jim being involved in anything like this.”

“There is one other option.” Gabe said softly from the back seat. He sat up slowly, his face pale, his father’s jacket pulled tight around him. “We never did check Sam or Dean for…devices, trackers. Maybe Gorlian had them tagged.”

“If Dean were tagged, they would have found them a whole lot faster, and Tulsa would have been a whole lot cleaner.” Bobby said.

“Not if they tagged him when he gave himself up.” Gabe said. “I was only looking for our device, not others. I never swept him, just the house, the woods. By that point we’d hurt them pretty bad. Maybe they decided to change their tactic, go after John directly.”

“Where it would hurt the most.” Allen murmured. He had to admit, it was possible. 

“From the time I spent with him, Gorlian seems to be highly intelligent, but he thinks he’s smarter than other people. Whatever his personal vendetta against John, he’s been pretty single minded. He’s been planning this for years…the infrastructure he’s built to pull this off is incredible.”

“I thought we decided Gorlian isn’t the top of the organization.”

Gabe inhaled deeply. “Whoever does his computer stuff is damn good. I’ll have to do some more digging…but that could be a ruse.”

The car was quiet for a while then Gabe sighed and settled back against the seat. “You okay?” Allen asked, reaching over the seat to touch his son’s knee. Gabe nodded, but didn’t meet his gaze. 

“I need to pee.”

Allen smiled and nodded. “We’ll stop at the next rest stop.” He flipped his phone open to call Ellen and let her know. Gabe pulled the jacket closer and curled in on himself until he was laying down again. He wanted to close his eyes, wanted to sleep…but he didn’t want the dreams…the endless cycle of rape and beatings and red hands. Under the jacket, where his father wouldn’t see, he rubbed his hands together, pulling at the blood he knew wasn’t there.


	42. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe continues to try to come to grips with what he's done, the hunters get back to the cabin, and Dean gets an eyeful.

Gabe stared at his reflection in the polished metal that served as a mirror in the rest stop bathroom. It looked like he felt…kind of unreal, a fuzzy image of someone he used to be. The water was cold but he kept his hands in it, scrubbing at his skin with calloused fingers.

 _Just…don’t let my kids see_.

Gabe bit his lip and looked down at his hands. Thomas had deserved what he got…what Gabe did to him. He’d beat Sam and Caleb. He’d orchestrated Sam’s rape. Gabe had seen him hold Sam still for it. He was a monster. He was evil. He was no better than a vampire or werewolf.

Except that Gabe had also seen him sitting at dinner with his wife and children, watching him bow his head to say grace. And he hadn’t begged for his life…only that his kids didn’t see it…didn’t see him. 

_They…they’re little…they won’t understand._

His hands hurt with the cold and the skin was raw. He trembled as he pulled them out of the sink. He moved to the towel dispenser, but it was empty, there was only an old fashioned linen towel dispenser, with a long loop of towel fed through rollers. He pulled and dried his hands, then stopped.

There was blood on the towel. Blood. His blood. “No. No.” Gabe shook his head and tried to reason through it. He looked down at his hands, raw and bleeding. “No.” 

He pulled on the dispenser. He had to get the towel. Couldn’t leave blood evidence. They’d find him. He yelled and pulled trying to open the metal box. 

“Gabe?”

“Gotta get it…can’t…” Gabe yanked and the box came loose. He fell backwards, cracking his jaw on the nearest sink before crashing to the floor, smacking his head on the concrete.

“Shit! Gabe?” 

His father was there, prying the metal out of his hands and reaching for Gabe. “Lie still…let me see.” 

“The towel…get the towel.” Gabe said, reaching for the box.

“Lie still, let me check…Gabe!” 

Gabe sat up and grabbed his father’s hands. “Dad. There’s blood. We can’t leave the blood.” 

Allen’s hand slid around the back of Gabe’s neck, his fingers questing against the knot he knew he was going to find. “There’s more blood now, Gabe. You’ve cracked your head open. Sit still and let me look.”

“Allen?” 

Allen looked up, meeting Bobby’s eyes. “Can you get me a first aid kit, Bobby…and see if there’s an ice machine?”

Allen got Gabe sitting up against a wall, his head turned so he could see the wound. “Gave yourself a decent concussion, I’d guess.” He went to the broken towel dispenser and kicked it until the bottom roller fell off, then pulled the towel free. “All of this over a little blood?”

“Can’t leave it…they’ll find me.”

“Who Gabe?”

Allen came back to squat in front of Gabe, ripping the towel and folding a piece of it to press against his head. “The police…or the Gorlians?”

Gabe shook his head, because he didn’t even know. “I can’t keep them clean.” He held up his hands.

Allen closed his eyes, then pressed a kiss to Gabe’s forehead. “Jesus Gabe, you should have said something.”

“I wanted…I don’t want Caleb to know.” 

“I’m sure Caleb would understand. We’ve all been where you are Gabe. We’ve all had that first kill.”

“But he was human, Dad. He had a family. I watched him say grace with his sons.”

“Gabe, even a vampire was human once. This man was no different. He let himself be swallowed up by evil. He became evil.”

Allen brushed hair out of Gabe’s eyes. “You hearing me, Gabe?”

Gabe licked his lips and tried to regulate his breathing. “Yeah…yeah, Dad. It doesn’t…it doesn’t change how it feels.”

“I know.” Bobby came back with the first aid kit and squatted beside them.

“Everything okay?”

“Gabe’s just having some issues adjusting.”

“First time.” Bobby said, then his hand dropped to Gabe’s knee. “We all have them, Son. Some are worse than others. I was your age. It was a different world then.”

“How…I mean…I keep seeing his face…hearing him talk about his kids.” Gabe closed his eyes while his father pressed gauze to the wound behind his ear. “I was so cold…I didn’t think…I just…did it.”

Allen’s hand was firm on his chin, turning him so that he could look at the bruise forming on his jaw. “You did what any one of us would have done. If I’d known what Caleb was up to, I would have come along.”

“I couldn’t let Caleb do it. I…he didn’t need that…he’s already got so much guilt over what happened.”

“Caleb isn’t your responsibility, Gabe.” Bobby said. “He’s a big boy. He can handle himself.”

Gabe shook his head. “He—he’s strung tight Bobby. He beat that guy. After he’d been tied up. Just beat him until I threatened to stop the car.”

“Bobby’s right Gabe. You need to worry about you, let us worry about Caleb, okay?”

Gabe nodded. “Ready to try standing up?” Allen helped Gabe to his feet. He swayed a little but Allen’s hand steadied him. “Bobby will clean up the rest of this mess. Let’s get something cold on that jaw of yours.”

 

Dean sat on the stairs, not quite ready to go in to Sam, but not really wanting to be in the living room with Ash and Jo. They seemed close, like him and Sam used to be…and he felt even more outside with them than he did with the others. He could hear them, bantering and joking while they tried to find something to watch on the television.

Upstairs he’d listened to his father get ready for bed, checking on Sam and closing his bedroom door. Pastor Jim had left Sam almost an hour before. It was maybe eleven. They expected the others soon. He knew he should be in bed before they showed up. Knew he should keep himself away. He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to not kill the bastard if he saw him. With a deep breath, Dean stood and headed up the stairs. Sam was asleep. 

Rather than disturb him, Dean stripped down to boxers and slid into the other bed. Sleep would be hard enough without laying beside Sam. He listened to the slow, deep breathing of his brother and did his best not to think about Gorlian or Harvell…or whatever the hell name he went by…tried not to think about the nights he woke up screaming for Sam, or the way his body betrayed him…tried not to remember…After a half an hour of trying, he knew he wasn’t going to be sleeping anytime soon. 

Sam stirred in his sleep and Dean sat up. He shook his head. He should go downstairs, let Sam sleep. He pulled his jeans back on and headed for the door. The house was quiet, except for strange sounds in the living room. 

He headed down the stairs and froze at the bottom, his eyes fixated on the television. Larger than life, his own face, eyes streaming tears as some cock was force fed into his face. He blinked. Razz. That was Razz. 

He must have made some noise, because Jo turned, her face ashen. “Dean? Oh my god, Dean.” Her hand was fumbling for the remote to turn it off. “I didn’t know.” 

The image faded back and Dean was on his knees in his cage, come covering his face and chest as Thomas and Razz laughed. Finally, Jo’s fingers found the right button and the screen went to black. “Dean?”

Jo approached, but didn’t touch him. He could smell her shampoo…it was soft, feminine. Slowly, he took the remote from her hand and moved around her. The image came back to life, The cage floor was littered with the pictures he had thought were Sam. “I think Master will be pleased. You’ve finally managed to break him.” Razz said.

“Took long enough, stubborn bitch. Get Dennis and Evan in here, we’ll give him a proper send off.”

“Dean? Maybe you should give me that.” Jo said. He could feel her hands on the remote, but he pulled away. 

“Where? Where did you find this?”

“There…was a box.” Jo said lamely, trying again for the remote.

Dean saw the box as she pointed and took the two steps to see inside. The number of DVDs startled him. “I only just put this one on. I didn’t touch the others.”

Dean could feel it bubbling up inside him, the rage that had led to the destroyed room at Bobby’s. Here it was…in a box…an entire year’s humiliation and debasement, rape, torture and capitulation…in a fucking box on the coffee table. He couldn’t talk…couldn’t find the words. He growled and Jo shrank back in surprise.

He picked up a few of the cases, turned them over in his hands. Then he was screaming, the DVDs flying as fast as he could get them in his hands. Jo ducked as low to the ground as she could while he flung them, screaming wordlessly in rage. 

The image on the screen was his blank, dead eyed face as he ran out of DVDs. He picked up the coffee table. He was vaguely aware that Jo was screaming, that there was a car outside, that his father was calling his name, but Dean didn’t care. He swung the table and threw it at his own face, smashing into the television screen. Glass flew at him, and he felt the sting as some of it connected, but he only screamed louder.

There was a hand on his arm, but Dean pulled it loose.

“Dean.”

“No!” He made for the door, growling when his father cut him off. John’s hand closed over Dean’s wrist and Dean felt fear rush in over the anger. “No.” he said, a little more weakly, though he still struggled.

“Dean, calm down. Let me help.”

Dean closed his eyes, tried to pull his hands free. “No…please…”

 _”On your knees slave._

Dean slid to his knees, lost in a memory as the door beside him opened. John went with him, one hand still around his wrist. Ellen was the first one in, sweeping Jo up in her arms as Caleb followed her. John folded himself protectively around Dean as the others came in and Jim came down the stairs. When John could catch Jim’s eye, he beckoned him.

“What happened?”

John shook his head. “I’m not sure. He was tearing the place up. I think he saw…I think Jo found the DVDs.”

Suddenly Jo was beside them. “I didn’t know what they were. I only saw just a second of it before he was there. I tried to turn it off…but he went crazy.”

Ellen was behind her, holding her shoulders. “It’s okay, Jo.” John said. “We should have…told him…or something. He’ll be okay.”

John looked back at Dean’s face, slack and pale, almost like he wasn’t even there. “Jim, maybe you can get him back upstairs, settle him in with Sam?”

Jim nodded and reached for Dean. His voice gentle as his hand slid up Dean’s arm. “Hear that Dean? We’re going to take you upstairs.” He got Dean to his feet and the crowd parted for them as he walked them through to the stairs.

“Okay, Gabe, I put Ash in your room, you’ll have to bunk with the boys. Bobby, Jim’s in with you. Allen, I’m afraid that leaves you the couch.”

“I’m okay with that.” Allen brushed a hand down Gabe’s arm. “Why don’t you go settle in. I can bring you something to help you sleep.”

Gabe shook his head. “I want to shower first. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, okay.” Allen watched him go then turned to John. “We end this thing soon.”

John nodded. “Let’s get the prisoner secure. Then we’ll talk rotation.”

“Come on Jo, let’s head up.” Ellen said turning her daughter toward the stairs.

“But I—“

“No. No buts or ifs or anything else. Up the stairs.”

“This sucks.” Jo moved for the stairs. “He’s my uncle, you’d think I could look at him once.”

“Go.”

“Okay, I’ve got the shed secured for this. I want him as far from the boys as possible.”

“The chances that we are being watched mean we don’t have much time to get whatever it is you want out of him.” Bobby said, moving them toward the door. “We should just get it done and over with.”

“Oh, we’ll get it done and over with Bobby…” 

The trunk opened and Michael Harvelle stared up at John Winchester. He looked only vaguely like Bill…bigger, broader, his face more square, his eyes darker. He was bound and gagged and John could still see a touch of the drugs in his eyes. “Get him out.” 

Together he and Bobby got him out and on his feet, cutting the rope that secured his feet so that he could be walked. He fought, though he was easily overpowered and forced to keep moving. John pulled the shed open and turned on the single overhead light. It took some work to free him of the ropes and secure him in the chains so that he was strung between the two uprights, his feet barely on the floor, his arms spread wide above his head.

Harvelle’s eyes flashed above the gag and it took everything John had not to kill him on the spot. “I’ll take first watch, I’ve had some sleep. And I have a few questions for him.”

“I’m not sure that’s wise, John,” Allen said, putting a placating hand on his arm. 

“I was making a statement, Allen. Not a suggestion.” He looked down at the shorter man. “If it were Gabe…”

Allen stared back for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah…okay. Want one of us to stay?”

John shook his head. “No, go on, get some sleep.” He waited until the shed door was closed, then went to a table he’d set up. “I don’t have the tools your men had when they tortured my boys, but I think I’ve put together a nice little kit, don’t you?” He pulled the tarp off the table, revealing a bevy of tools, from a hammer to the cord he’d salvaged off a broken weed eater.

He picked up a knife and held it up, examining the blade as he came closer. “What’s say we get rid of those pesky clothes?” He set about cutting the tie, close up to his neck, Harvelle panted and John only smiled. “Don’t worry. I don’t intend on asking any questions just now. For right this minute, I just want to hurt you, so we’ll leave the gag on. Feel free to scream all you want.”

 

Gabe stood in the shower until the water ran cold…then a little longer. When he finally forced himself out, he was shivering with cold. He knew his father was right…he should let them worry about Caleb…but he felt…responsible. He’d watched, seen…and there was something about the collar…something about the look in Caleb’s eyes when Gabe had put it on him….something even more when he’d realized Caleb was still wearing it.

Gabe pulled on a pair of boxers and hung his towels to dry. Like it or not, he and Caleb were connected in this. Gabe slipped from the bathroom and into the hall, pausing between the two bedroom doors. Ultimately he knocked briefly on Caleb’s door. Caleb looked surprised when he opened it, but stood aside and let Gabe in. “You okay?”

Gabe shook his head as Caleb shut the door. “I’m not sure, Caleb. I…I’m kinda mixed up.”

Caleb nodded and went back to the bed. “I know what you mean.”

“Do you?” Gabe bit his lip. He wasn’t even sure he knew what he meant. “I have…these feelings I don’t know what to do with.”

“What kind of feelings, Gabe?”

Gabe wrung his hands, then crossed his arms. “I don’t know.” He turned to face Caleb. “I…I’m afraid, Caleb.” He licked his lips and tried to figure out how to say it without sounding insane. “I’m afraid of…what I did…what I felt…I mean…it was so…easy…and the power…fuck.”

“You mean what you did to Thomas?” Caleb was standing now, coming toward him.

Gabe shook his head. “No.” Caleb was right in front of him, eye to eye. Gabe raised his hand, settled it on Caleb’s neck, his thumb pressing across the front. “I mean this.”

“Gabe…it’s okay.” 

Gabe shook his head. “No…you don’t understand. There was a part of me that got aroused when I saw you still had it on. There was a part of me that got aroused when you let me put it on you.” He dropped his hand and closed his eyes. “I liked it, Caleb.”

Caleb took Gabe’s hand, held it between them. They were silent for a long time, then Caleb slowly put Gabe’s hand back on his neck. “There was a part of me that did too, Gabe.”

Gabe’s eyes opened, startled. He looked at Caleb, but Caleb wouldn’t look at him. “I won’t lie to you. It…scares me.” Caleb said softly. 

Gabe shook his head and took a step back, his hand slipping away and falling to his side. “What…what are you saying?”

Caleb seemed to sag as he sighed and moved back toward the bed. “I don’t know Gabe.”

 

Ellen settled Jo into bed, and made sure she was asleep. She was tired too, but she knew they didn’t have long…and she knew better than to leave John out there alone. She stopped at the car to retrieve a gun and headed out to the shed. 

John glanced over his shoulder when the door opened, and Ellen’s eyes flicked from his to Michael’s. John had already worked him over pretty good. “Hello Michael.”

His eyes flared over the gag and he chewed at the material in his mouth. She smiled coldly. “Not exactly how you planned this, I’ll bet.”

She moved closer, her eyes traveling over the marks John had left on him, over the bloody face. She turned to John. “He’s more likely to talk if you take the gag out.”

John shrugged. “I suppose.” He leaned in toward Michael. “You ready to talk now?” He yanked the gag out. Michael worked his jaw, his eyes dancing between John and Ellen.

“Hello Ellen,” he said finally, his voice quiet, but with a hard edge. “John.” He spit the name. 

“Tell us where the others are hiding.” Ellen said. 

“That isn’t what you want to know.” Michael said. “You want to know why. You want to know how. You want to know who’s watching you and how long you have before they come to get me.”

Ellen backhanded him with the gun in her hand, opening a bloody gash along his cheekbone. “Answer the question.”

Michael laughed, dropping his head forward. “Bill always did say you were a spitfire…nice to see that your daughter has the same spirit…it will make breaking her that much more fun.”

She hit him again and again, and then John was pulling her away. “He’s goading you.”

“That’s it John, placate her, calm her down…just like you did after you killed Bill.”

They both turned and Michael smiled, his teeth coated in blood. “He never told you, did he? How he killed Bill?”

Ellen leveled the gun at him. “Shut up.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me, Ellen? I still have information you want, don’t I?”

“Truth of the matter is, Michael, it doesn’t matter what information you have. Your organization is toppling.” John moved to pick up the power cord. “You bit off more than you could chew when you came after us.”

“Oh, yes, because you’re the mighty John Winchester…no one gets the better of him…except I did. I was working on it…working my way into the hunter’s community…then I found that dolt Robert. Bobby should have done a better job raising that boy. Not right in the head, that one.”

“You’d know all about that, eh, Mikey?” John said.

“Compared to that sick puppy, I’m the picture of mental health.” Michael spit blood onto the dirt floor. “You took my brother. I figured it was only fair to take your boys.”

“You killed Bill, you sick fuck. That berserker you let loose killed him.”

Michael shook his head. “You’re the one who delivered the final blow, John. Damn near cut his fucking head off, didn’t you?”

John’s fist slammed into his face. There was a crunch as bones broke. Michael just laughed. “Heh…feeling a little guilty are you? Bet you never told her.”

“John?” 

“Ellen, he’s just trying to turn us against each other.”

“I realize that. Can I talk to you?”

John nodded, replacing the gag before following her out of the shed. “He’s stalling.” Ellen said when the door was closed. “He must think someone’s coming for him.”

She was shaking. “You should go inside, Ellen. Let me deal with him.”

“No. He’s my responsibility.”

“I’m not letting you kill him.”

“John—“

“No. Ellen, I’m serious.”

“He threatened my little girl.”

John nodded. “I know. I do. But it isn’t something you need to do, Ellen. Let one of us handle it.”

They were quiet for a minute, then she put the gun in his hand. “Is there any truth to what he’s saying?”

“Ellen…”

“John, I forgave you a long time ago. Just tell me.”

John hung his head, cleared his throat. “Bill was…he wasn’t going to make it down the mountain. He was hurting…it was really bad. He…begged. I couldn’t leave him there like that…and every step caused him more pain. He asked me to look after you and Jo…and to help him…and I did.”

She nodded. “Kill him for me, John?”

He kissed her forehead, then her lips. “It will be over soon, I promise.”


	43. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe and Caleb explore the feelings between them, Sam gets very angry and everyone is left waiting for what happens next.

Sam woke as Jim settled Dean into bed, rolling over to look up at them in confusion. “Is everything okay?”

Jim shook his head and knelt to pull Dean’s shoes off. Sam sat up, reaching for Dean, frowning at his slack, expressionless face. “Lay down, Dean.” Jim said and Dean did, laying down and letting Jim pull the blanket up over him.

“Pastor Jim?”

Jim nodded and gestured Sam across the room. Sam hobbled over, glancing back at Dean. “What happened?”

“I’m not completely sure, Sam. I think…God, Sam I think he saw…something. Jo was…” Jim exhaled slowly.

“Are you telling me he saw the DVDs?”

“A split second of one. Jo must have been looking for something to watch. He came down stairs. He caused some damage, then your father grabbed him and he went down.”

Sam turned to look at Dean. “What do you mean?”

Jim sighed. “By the time I got to the bottom of the stairs, your father was huddled over him. I didn’t see anything. And everyone was coming in.”

“So Gorlian is here?”

Jim nodded. “Your father is out there with him.”

“Of course he is.” Sam pulled a hand through his hair. “Okay. Leave Dean to me. I’m sure you have other things to take care of…”

“Sam, I’m not sure you’re ready—“

“No offense Pastor Jim, but right now, I think Dean’s had enough of everyone.” Sam gestured to the door. “I’ll call you if I need you.”

When the door was closed behind him, Sam moved slowly over to look down at his brother. Dean’s face was blank, staring…”Oh, Dean.” Sam sank onto his good knee and reached for his face. “I’m here, Dean. You’re safe, and I’ll be here. Right here.”

Dean blinked, his fingers closing around Sam’s hand when he put it in Dean’s, but there was no recognition, no sign that Dean was there at all. “I’m so sorry Dean. So sorry.” 

 

The room was silent, but not entirely uncomfortable. Gabe stood at the window, staring out into the dark. Caleb sat on the bed. There was a lot still unsaid between them. Gabe sighed and Caleb turned to look at him.

“We don’t have to do anything, Gabe. I mean…you’re young…and I’m…and…hell, I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

Gabe moved so he was leaning on the wall, looking at Caleb. “I’ve never considered…I mean…there was the brief infatuation I had with Sam when I was younger…but I knew he wasn’t into me…and I didn’t think I was…you know…”

Caleb smiled and nodded. “My first experience…I was younger than you. It wasn’t…He was older. He was…forceful.” Caleb looked down, looked away. “I’ve never told anyone. I was fifteen. In juvenile detention. He was…17.”

Gabe felt his heart start to race. “Caleb…you don’t have to…”

Caleb shook his head. “I liked the way he made me feel Gabe…but it scared me…I was used to being on my own, I was used to fighting for everything. And with him…I didn’t have to…I could just…let him make the decisions….let him…tell me what to do.”

Gabe stood slowly, that rush flooding him…an understanding dawning. “You liked it.” He stepped closer. “You liked the fear too…liked that he knew how to push you…” Suddenly he was in front of Caleb, his hand sliding around the back of his neck. “You like this.” He angled Caleb’s head back so that he was looking up at him.

Slowly, Caleb nodded. Gabe’s breathing picked up as he stepped in a little closer, leaning forward. “Do you want this, Caleb?”

Caleb’s eyes fluttered closed and he nodded tightly. Gabe’s lips brushed lightly over Caleb’s and Caleb’s opened in response. “Say it.” Gabe whispered. 

“Yes…Gabe…yes, I want this.”

Gabe’s heart was thundering in his chest as he pressed in for more, lips parting to let his tongue sweep across Caleb’s lips. It was nothing like kissing a girl…it was…harder…it was different. “I’ve never…” Gabe whispered.

Caleb nodded, and licked his lips. “It’s okay. We’ll take it slow.”

 

“John?”

John took a deep breath and stood. The shed doors were closed behind him and he was only gathering his strength before going inside. “Bobby. I was just coming in.”

“Michael?” 

“I drugged him. He’s not giving us any answers, at least not tonight.”

“Ellen said you’d hurt him.”

John nodded. “He needed to know we would.”

“You okay?” 

John shook his head. “No. No Bobby, I am decidedly not okay.” He took a few steps away from the shed and clapped Bobby on the shoulder. “But in the morning, I think things will be better.”

“The house is quiet. Everyone’s gone to bed.”

John nodded. “Someone should stand watch.”

“I will. You go on.”

 

Allen settled onto the couch with Gabe’s laptop, looking up briefly as John came in, but he didn’t stop, so Allen turned his attention instead to one of the two secure servers his son would have uploaded the information on to. Somewhere in all of this, there were answers.

The sheer volume of data was overwhelming, everything from client lists to tax returns, shipping invoices and tracking documents and personnel data. He followed the tracks Sam made as he’d dug, smiling when he realized Sam had replicated the information, more than once. “Smart boy.”

Allen took a swipe through the data, and started partitioning it off into sections that would be easier to manage. He figured he wasn’t anywhere near ready to sleep, and if there was anything to be found buried in this mess, finding it sooner was better than later.

 

Ellen listened as the shower turned off, as John opened the bathroom door, paused to check on Sam and Dean, then finally turned to his own door. He sighed loudly as he saw her sitting on his bed. “I’m tired, Ellen.”

“I know. I just…I don’t want to be alone.”

John nodded absently. “You have Jo.”

“Not what I meant.” She slid off the bed. “We don’t…I mean…I just want…I need to feel something, John. Just…hold me, okay?”

John’s eyes closed and he nodded, coming toward her. His big hand stroked over her cheek. “It’s going to be okay, Ellen.”

She slid into bed first and he came behind her, spooning around her and holding her close. “I’m sorry I never told you.” John said softly once he had his arms around her.

“I’m not.” Ellen responded. “Bill wouldn’t have wanted me to know.”

“But Bill isn’t here, and you had a right.”

“Maybe.” She held his hands up close to her chest and closed her eyes. There was an ache inside her she had thought she’d laid to rest with her husband…an ache that drove her from the bed where her daughter slept and into the arms of the man who had taken her husband from her. But she couldn’t hold it against John, not when Michael was right there.

Not when Michael had threatened to do to Jo what he’d done to Dean. Not when Michael had been responsible for what she’d seen….for what those boys, and countless others had been through. 

Behind her she could hear John’s breathing deepen, could feel him shift into sleep. All around them the house was quiet. Too quiet. It made her feel like they were holding their breath. Waiting.

 

The sun was starting to creep up over the trees. Sam watched from the end of the second bed, glancing back to where Dean lay and sighing deeply. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t even closed his eyes. He just lay there like the dead.

Sam shook off that thought. It was shock. Dean was just in shock. He would be fine. Sam had to believe that.

It was too much. Too many people. Too much stimulus. He needed to get Dean away. Just the two of them. Sam sighed. His father would never agree. 

At this point even Pastor Jim wasn’t going to be much help. Sam shifted on the bed, so that he could watch Dean. It was bad this time, Sam could tell. Dean had hit the wall a few times since Sam had found him, but it had only ever taken some gentleness and soft words to draw him out. 

Now, there wasn’t any indication that Dean even heard him. Sam sighed again and moved to stand up. He should have burned the damn DVDs…should have locked them away. Should never have left them for someone to find.

And Jo…Jo should have been in bed…should have been…And maybe she was just a kid, but she should have known better than to go nosing around someone’s things. Sam grabbed for his crutches and headed for the door. Maybe he shouldn’t have anything to do with Michael Harvelle, but he had a few choice words for his neice.

He opened the door and froze. Gabe and Caleb were headed for the stairs and they stopped. Jo was just coming out of the bathroom. 

“Everything okay Sam?” Caleb asked as Sam stared at Jo.

Sam shook his head. 

“Let us help?” Gabe asked, coming closer. Sam shook his head again. 

“It’s her fault.” He knew that didn’t make any sense, but he shook with fury as he looked at her. This little slip of a girl. Her family…her father…her uncle…it all came down to them. “Dean’s gone…She took him from me.”

Jo stood staring at him, her eyes wide. She was frightened, but couldn’t seem to move away. 

“Sam, it isn’t Jo’s fault.” Caleb said.

“Dean was better. Dean was coming back…then he saw…because she couldn’t mind her own business.” Sam hobbled a little closer. His eyes locked onto her face, but he wasn’t really seeing her. “Did you like what you saw? Huh? Are you a sick fuck like that sick uncle of yours? Does it run in the family?”

Jo flinched and Caleb tried to put himself between Sam and Jo, but Sam shoved him aside.

“Maybe you’re in on it? Maybe you’re the one we should have been hunting…maybe you’re the one we should be questioning?” 

“Sam.”

There was a hand on his shoulder and he jerked away. Jo huddled into herself and backed up into the wall. “Tell me Jo…did you like it?”

“Samuel Winchester, stand down.” 

Sam froze, staring at Jo and panting. His father’s voice was enough to stop him, but not the icy fury flowing through his veins. Ellen moved between them and covered Jo, moving her away and down the hall. Sam’s eyes followed until John cut him off. “I said stand down.”

Sam blinked, then looked at his father. “Fuck you.”

John’s hand descended fast, slapping across Sam’s face. “That little girl has nothing to do with this. And if you don’t want me to slap you again, you will take yourself back into your room right this minute.”

“Go ahead. Slap me. After what I’ve been through you can’t possibly do worse, Dad.” 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Sam rolled his eyes and tried to move away, but his father’s hands closed around his arms. “What the hell do you think is wrong with me? Have you **seen** Dean, Dad?” He pulled until John released him. “Fuck. Fuck. He’s gone…he’s…I can’t reach him. He isn’t talking. He’s barely blinking….and you spent the night out there with that fucking bastard.”

“Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “No. No. I’m done, Dad. I’m done.”

“What does that mean?”

Sam stopped at the door to the bedroom. “I’m gonna take care of Dean, Dad. The way I should have from the beginning. You do what you have to.”

“What are you gonna do?”

Sam looked back at him. “Don’t worry about it. You do your thing. You…just leave us alone.”

Sam closed the door behind him, leaving John staring at it until someone cleared their throat. He looked up then, realizing for the first time that Gabe and Caleb were still standing there, and now Ash was at the top of the stairs. 

“Yeah, this isn’t awkward.” Ash said, then pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Breakfast?”

John closed his eyes and nodded. “You go on. I’ll be down in a minute.” He watched Gabe and Caleb follow Ash down the stairs and turned to Ellen and Jo. “I’m sorry. Sam…”

Ellen shook her head. “It’s okay, John. Jo’s okay. Aren’t you?”

Jo nodded, but she was shaking. “Yeah…he…he startled me.”

“He doesn’t think it’s your fault, honey.” John said. “He’s angry and hurting.”

Jo licked her lips. “But it is my fault…at least a little.”

Ellen stroked a hand over Jo’s hair. “No honey, it isn’t.”

“I should have put those away. They shouldn’t have been where you could find them.”

“I didn’t see…he was there…it had just come on.”

Ellen shook her head and turned her toward the stairs. “We know Jo. Let’s just go downstairs, have some breakfast.” She looked at John as she passed. “Then you and me will go home…okay?”

John nodded. It was time to break this party up. It was time to end it all.

He didn’t stop or look into the kitchen where most everyone was sitting down to breakfast. He let himself out onto the porch staring out at what was going to be a beautiful day. He glanced down the path toward the shed, where he could see Caleb heading with coffee for Bobby. 

They were stuck and John was very well aware of it. If someone was still watching, John couldn’t leave. If someone was still watching they’d be coming for Michael eventually. He was half surprised they hadn’t already. 

He sighed, watching his breath plume on the air. They had one Gorlian. They had reason to believe another was dead. The feds were cleaning up the rest of the organization. 

The door beside him opened and Allen stepped out, handing John a cup of coffee. “Thought you could use it.” 

John smiled vaguely and nodded. “Thank you.”

“I also thought you might like an update.”

“On what?” 

Allen sipped from his own cup and leaned against the railing. “Been up all night. Spent some of it digging through the information, some of it hacking the FBI.” John raised an eyebrow and Allen chuckled. “Gabe didn’t learn everything he knows from those hackers at that college he went to.” He sipped again. “Terrance Gorlian, aka Tyler Morven aka Timothy Mallard and half a dozen other aliases, is confirmed dead. He was found executed, a bullet in the back of the head at the Florida facility.”

“Did we do it?” John asked.

Allen shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. I don’t think so. That’s Gordon’s style. But Gordon was in Colorado.”

“Anything else?”

“Apparently, the FBI are preparing indictments against several government officials, including a four star general. It’s all over the news.”

John squinted at him. “The leak’s on their side. Probably Megan, Gabe’s friend. She was worried it would get covered up.”

“I don’t like the idea of the press getting in on this.”

Allen nodded. “Gabe removed all the references he could find that would lead them to you…or any of us.”

John nodded. He still didn’t like it. But he’d been learning to live with a lot of things he didn’t like. This was just one more. He sipped at his coffee and turned to watch Bobby coming up the path.

“Joe and Gordon are pulling back.”

“What about the other one? We’re still missing a Gorlian.” John said.

Allen shook his head. “I’m not sure he exists.”

“What?”

Allen shrugged and sipped at his coffee. “I can’t find any documents signed by him, can’t find any aliases that lead to an actual person. It’s like he’s a ghost.”

“What are you saying Allen?”

“We might just be in the clear, John. The government is in the process of seizing all the property owned by the Gorlians, their companies, their aliases. The organization is in shambles.”

“What about the box? Are you saying that no one is actually watching?”

“Gabe and Ash and I will make a sweep of the house and the woods. We may never know how the box got here.”

“Morning John, Allen.” Bobby stopped beside the stairs. “He’s not talking any time soon.”

“Didn’t expect he would.” John said. “I’m thinking we should just end it.”

He stared down at his coffee cup. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe it was time to just be done. To focus on getting life back to normal. Whatever the fuck that was.

“I think maybe you’re right.” A voice said behind them and they all turned, surprised to find Pastor Jim standing in the doorway. 

“Jim?”

He crossed his arms and stepped out onto the porch. “You should finish it. Finish it and move on.” He squinted out at the sky. “I’m leaving. You and the boys are welcome to come see me. But I think you all need some time. I’m not actually helping anymore.”

 

Sam stood just inside the door to the bedroom, his back to the door. Dean lay still and quiet. Sam was terrified that Dean might never come back to the surface again. There was only so much trauma a human heart could handle before it was broken beyond repair. “It’s going to be okay Dean. I promise. I’m going to make it all okay.”

He blew out a slow breath and looked around the room. His duffle bag sat on the floor by the small dresser. “Okay. I know what to do, Dean. I’m going to make it better.” He wasn’t thinking…not really…he was desperate. Nearly as desperate as he’d been when he’d cast that first spell.

But he wasn’t going to think about that right now. He had to think about Dean. Had to make it okay for Dean. Make it safe.

Sam made his way to the dresser and pulled the duffle from the floor. They didn’t have much, so packing wouldn’t take long. “We’ll just go away for a while, Dean. You and me. Okay?” He shoved clothes into the bag, then dragged the bag over toward the night stand. The med kit was still there and he rolled it up before shoving it into his bag. He stopped beside Dean, blinking at the tears. 

Sam left the bag on the floor and crawled into bed behind his brother, pulling him close and holding him tight. “It’s okay Dean. I understand. I do. And I’m going to take care of you. You just…hang in there, okay? I’ll get us out of here and we’ll go somewhere safe. Somewhere nice. Would you like that Dean?”

Dean didn’t answer, didn’t move, just lay in his arms. Sam sniffed but couldn’t stop the tears. “Don’t leave me Dean…please don’t leave me.”


	44. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Pastor Jim talk about the possibility of a traitor in their midst, Gabe, Allen and Ash search for hidden bugs, and Gabe makes a disturbing discovery

“You really think leaving’s the right thing to do?”

Pastor Jim looked up from his packing. He shook his head. “I don’t know John. There’s a lot of people here, and I don’t think I can be much use to the boys or you. I can’t condone what you’re going to do.”

John stood in the door way, his hands in his pockets. “I’m not asking you to.”

“If I stay, it’s implied.”

“You can’t tell me he doesn’t deserve it.”

Jim sighed and sat on the bed. “I’ve seen enough of what was done to Dean to realize he does. I just…don’t think you need me here to do it.” He folded his hands on his lap. “If I’m being truthful, Sam and Dean shouldn’t be here either. Or Gabe or Caleb for that matter.”

“Ellen’s leaving. Taking Jo away.”

“After the incident last night, and Sam’s reaction this morning, I think that’s wise.”

John glanced over his shoulder, then stepped into the room and shut the door. “I need to say this. You leaving now…it doesn’t look good.”

Jim looked up at him. “Because that box showed up when I did?”

John shrugged. “I’m not saying I suspect you. God Jim, I’ve trusted you with my boys all their lives. I’m just saying we have to look at everyone.”

“You’re right. You do. And the most suspicious for you right now are the three of us who came late to the party.”

“Right. I mean…Jo is just a kid. I don’t think…I don’t think she has what it takes to deceive her mother like that.”

“Unless Ellen has been in on it from the beginning.” Jim’s words were soft, but John recoiled physically. “You said you have to look at everyone.”

“It’s hard to imagine anyone here being involved.” John sighed and pulled a hand through his hair.

“They don’t have to be here. There’s Gordon, heavens knows he’s not even the least likely to be involved. And Andrew for that matter. We haven’t even seen him.” Jim crossed his arms and stared at the floor. “I know these people as well as you do John…maybe better. Hell, even I realize it’s stupid to not suspect me.”

“I know. I just…” John closed his eyes. “I hate this. I fucking hate this.” He covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know what to do Jim. I can’t do this.”

“Which part of this?”

“I can’t spend the rest of my life suspecting everyone. We already live hard enough lives.”

“Maybe that’s what Michael wanted all along.”

“What?”

Jim stood back up and went back to packing his bag. “Michael never was accepted by the hunter community, not like Bill. The others saw him for what he was. Maybe he wanted revenge for his brother…maybe he wanted something more.”

John sighed. “And the boys?”

“Maybe they really were nothing more than a means to an end. I know that’s cruel, but…maybe that’s all it really ever was.”

“All I do is hurt them. I can’t trust anyone and I can’t help my boys. I can’t…”

“You can do this, John. You have to do this. If you don’t, who will?”

 

Gabe stopped in his tromping through the woods. He could just see the roof of the cabin through the trees. He swept his sensor in the direction of the house, but all he was picking up was the static put out by the dampers.

He plucked his radio off his belt. “Dad, I’ve finished my quadrant. I’ve got nothing.”

“Yeah, Gabe, I’m nearly through too. There’s no equipment out here that I can detect.”

“The only thing I’ve even seen on visual scans are the repeaters for the wifi.”

“Gabe, Allen, I checked the repeaters myself this morning.” Ash said. “I’m just finishing up running the main lines for creepers. I got nothing.”

Gabe sighed and looked around him. They were missing something. He knew it. “I’ll take a swing a little further out before I head back.”

“Be careful.”

“Always.”

He clipped the radio back onto his belt and headed back the way he’d just come. Something was bothering him. Something they should have thought of but hadn’t yet. He reached the end of his marked search area and stopped again, scanning the trees. 

“Okay, think Gabe. If you were a fucking pervert and wanted to find Sam and Dean, how would you do it?”

 

Bobby knocked at Sam’s door, softly. When Sam didn’t answer, he opened the door and peeked in. “Sam?”

Sam lifted his head from beside Dean’s. It looked like he’d been crying. “Can I come in?”

Sam sniffed and nodded, moving to sit up. Bobby closed the door and stood in front of it for a long minute. “I…wanted to see how Dean was.”

Sam shook his head. “He hasn’t…moved.” Sam wiped at his face. “Hasn’t said a word.”

Bobby nodded, his eyes falling on the duffle by the bed. “Going somewhere?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. I’m taking Dean away. He can’t get better here. Not like this.”

Bobby crossed his arms. “Is that a good idea?”

“I don’t know. It’s the only idea I’ve got left.” Sam got up off the bed. “I can’t lose him, Bobby…not again.”

“You got a plan? I mean, you don’t got a car. It’s a long walk to town and neither you or Dean’s in any shape.”

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “I was thinking I could get you to give us a lift…or…Allen. Just someplace where we can get a car.”

“Then what?”

Sam shook his head. “Go…away…somewhere safe…somewhere no one knows us.”

Bobby sighed, turned his attention to Dean. “You boys had anything to eat today?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t want to leave him.”

“Want me to bring you something?”

“We should…we should be going.”

Bobby smiled. “Eat first. Please?” Sam nodded. “Okay. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Bobby let himself out of the room and sighed. Pastor Jim and John came out of another of the bedrooms and Bobby looked up. “John…we have a problem. Sam wants to leave. Wants to take Dean away.”

John looked over Bobby, then back at Jim. “Actually…it’s not a bad idea, Bobby. I asked Jim to take them.”

“You what?”

“We need to empty this place out. We need to get Ellen and Jo and Gabe out of here too. Caleb, if we can convince him.”

“So it’s just you, me and Allen against whatever the Gorlians have left? Are you crazy?”

John shook his head. “No. Allen thinks we might be clear. That we got them all, and what we didn’t get the feds are taking care of. We just have to clean up the mess.”

“Meaning Michael Harvelle.”

John nodded. “I’ll deal with him, then we sanitize the place.”

“I still don’t like it.”

 

Gabe didn’t like it. The whole thing was too clean. That box didn’t just appear on the porch. And Gabe couldn’t begin to believe that Pastor Jim had delivered it. He circled all the way down to the road. The main lines for power ran up to the house from the road. He remembered seeing a control box a ways down. Something was bugging him. Something wasn’t right.

Fifty feet down the road from the turn into the long gravel driveway, Gabe stopped and turned. There was something. He jogged back up to the turn, watching around him to make sure he wasn’t being watched. 

Ash had shown him a passive camera system the last time he’d been at the Roadhouse with his father. One that wouldn’t turn up on sweeps unless it was active, and it was only active when something moved in front of it. Ash had said he’d installed one at the Roadhouse and one up at Andrew’s cabin.

All Gabe had to do was find the camera.

 

Caleb heard footsteps and looked up, half expecting John or even Bobby. Instead Ash appeared from the back of the house, looking like something out of Ghostbusters with a backpack that sprouted wires and antenna. Caleb chuckled and Ash cocked a smile at him. “Made it myself…does EMF and EVP and radiation…among other things.”

“What? No beer dispenser?” 

Ash made a face. “The refrigeration unit interferes with the readings.”

Caleb smiled. “So, how goes the search?”

“That’s why I’m here. There’s some electrical running out here, so I’ve come to check it.” 

“Be my guest.”

“He awake?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t looked.”

“I’ll be a few minutes, so if you want to take a break…”

“I could use a chance to go to the bathroom.” 

“I’ll hang out here til you get back.”

Ash watched Caleb walk away, then turned to the shed. “Well then, let’s have a look.”

Michael Harvelle raised a bruised and bloody face as the door opened, his eyes squinting against the glare. “Somebody’s having a bad day.”

There was a light in his eyes as Ash closed the door and kicked on the lights. He chewed at the gag. “You’ll be happy to know I’m not here to torment you.”

 

John stood outside his sons’ door, hesitant. When he finally knocked, Sam answered the door. “Oh…I thought…”

John licked his lips. “Can I come in?”

“Depends. What do you want?”

“Sam, please. I just…I know you want to be alone with Dean. And…I think maybe you’re right.”

Sam didn’t answer, just opened the door wider. “Bobby said he hasn’t changed.”

Sam closed the door and waved a hand at his brother. “He just lies there. Staring.”

John crossed to the bed and squatted beside it. His hand was gentle as it slid over Dean’s cheek. “He just stopped.”

“What?” Sam moved closer, hovering.

“He was…furious, throwing things…then he was running and I stopped him. I grabbed his wrists and he…he just shut down. I think…I think he thought I was…one of them.”

John closed his eyes and pressed his face to Dean’s shoulder. “I did this. He can’t…you need to take him someplace quiet. Someplace safe. Someplace where I can’t hurt him again.”

“Dad—“

John held up his hands. “Bobby’s making lunch for you boys. Then Pastor Jim is going to take you to Tulsa. He’s going to help you find the Impala. It’s probably been impounded by now. Then…I want you to take Dean and go. I don’t want to know where. You call me when…when he’s better.”

“What…what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to finish this. Clean up the mess.”

 

“Dad, it’s Gabe.”

Allen looked up, scanning the tree line. “Go ahead Gabe.”

“Are you back at the house?”

“Yes. Where are you?”

“Coming up the drive. Meet me.”

Allen turned and looked down the driveway, raising a hand when he saw Gabe. He dropped his backpack and radio and headed down to meet him. He didn’t have to get close to see Gabe was upset. “Gabe?”

Gabe nodded, grabbed his arm and gestured into the woods with his chin. Allen came along easily, following quite a ways until he finally got impatient. “Gabe?”

“Just a little more. For safety.”

“What are you talking about?” They topped the ridge behind the cabin and Gabe stopped, handing a small hand held television to his father. The screen showed a flat image across the end of the driveway, showing a patch of road and the entrance to the property. “What’s this?”

“Passive camera system. I didn’t find it because it has no signal.”

“How’d you find it this time?”

“It’s been bugging me. This whole thing…it’s too clean. Someone had to know this group, had to know who was likely to end up here. Know we’d need an internet connection. Know we’d sweep for devices.”

“An inside job.”

Gabe nodded. “Ash.”

Allen frowned at him. “Ash? He’s as loyal as they come.”

“Maybe. Maybe his loyalty belongs to someone else.”

“Why Ash?”

“He installed this. He told me about it a few months ago. He was bragging about how it was his own design. He installed one here and one at the Roadhouse.”

“What triggers it?”

“Motion and weight. A car, even a bike, you’ll see shots of a kid on a bike who crosses onto the property with a fishing pole.”

“A person on foot?”

Gabe shrugged. “Not that I’ve seen.”

“We can’t go accuse him just based on this.”

“I know. But I wanted someone else to be aware. We need to watch him.”

Allen nodded. “And we need to do a background check on him.”

“Ellen isn’t going to like that.”

“So we don’t tell her.”

“I’m concerned about using this internet connection to do the searching. He’s probably tracking usage.”

“We’ll have to risk it. Maybe we can keep him busy while you do it. Get him occupied on something else.”

 

Ash moved further into the shed, his eyes sweeping over the instruments collected. He picked up a screwdriver and held it up to examine. “I did come to give you a message though.”

Ash moved closer, watching with amusement as the prisoner started to realize exactly why Ash was there. “Several actually.”

He set one hand on his shoulder and shoved the screwdriver into Michael’s left side. “That is from my mother. She says hi.” Michael yelled into the gag as Ash pulled the screwdriver out. “Oh, yes, I realize she’s dead. But…that never stopped you.” He slammed the screwdriver in the right side. “That one’s from Billy. He says you’re a prick.”

Ash pulled it out and held it up, watching blood run down it’s length. “I know. You want to know where you went wrong as a father. I get that. It isn’t really all that important, you know?” He shoved again, into his shoulder. “That one’s all me. Just so you don’t think I don’t care.”

He left the tool buried in his flesh, then stepped away to look him over. “See, it isn’t about you anymore.” He reached for the screwdriver, drawing it out slowly. “You fucked up. Uncle Ashley knew it would come to this a while ago. He took care of Uncle Terry himself.”

Ash paced away a little. “I don’t think he expected me to be so eager. But hey, it’s my inheritance isn’t it? Mine and Billy’s.”

He stepped in close again, setting the point of the screwdriver under Michael’s chin. “Last message. It’s from Uncle Ashley. He says he’ll be taking the organization in a new direction…after he cleans up your mess.”

He shoved up hard, until the head of the screwdriver was flush with Michael’s chin and the tip protruded through the top of his head. “And I can stop being Ellen’s fucking errand boy...and Jo’s fucking baby sitter.”

 

Gabe sprinted up from the backside of the house, glancing to the shed, expecting to find Caleb still sitting guard. Instead, Ash was there. Ash raised a hand in greeting and Gabe echoed the gesture absently. As he reached for the screen door, Caleb was just coming out.

“Hey.” Caleb’s hand brushed over Gabe’s and they both glanced over to Ash, who was apparently engaged in watching something on the ground.

Gabe breathed in the steadiness that had come over Caleb through the night…smiling a little at the thought of what that night had been for both of them. “You okay?” Caleb asked.

Gabe nodded, then tugged on his hands a little, looking pointedly at Ash. “Don’t trust him.” He said it as softly as he was able and Caleb’s eyes sought his out.

“What is it?”

“Not yet. Gotta prove it. Just…keep him busy until Dad comes.”

Caleb nodded. “We don’t have much time. Everything’s breaking up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Leaving. We’re all leaving.”

“I better get busy then.”

He slipped away, into the dark interior of the house, leaving Caleb to distract Ash. The house was busy, with Bobby putting food on a tray to take to Sam, and Ellen hauling her things out to the car. Gabe grabbed his laptop and headed upstairs, settling in an empty bedroom to work. 

 

Sam knelt beside his brother. “I need you to sit up Dean.” He swallowed around the tears when Dean obeyed without question, without expression. Just sat up, hands in his lap. “Bobby brought some soup. Okay? Can you…” His voice cracked and he forced himself to clear his throat. “Can you eat for me?”

Dean didn’t move, just stared off over Sam’s shoulder. “Okay, I’m going to help you Dean. Open your mouth.”

Sam lifted a spoonful into Dean’s mouth. “Good. Swallow.” He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He could do this. “Another one. Open. Swallow.”

He got almost half the bowl into him before there was a knock on the door. Pastor Jim opened it. “You boys ready?”

Sam got up and set the bowl aside. “Yeah, I guess.” He leaned down for the duffle, but Jim beat him to it. 

“This everything?”

Sam nodded. “I’ve cleared the living room. We’ll go straight out and into my car.”

“What about Dad?”

“There’s something up. He said to call him later. He gave me this.” He handed Sam an envelope.

Inside it was a small amount of money and some credit cards. “It isn’t much, but it should get you wherever it is you’re going.”

Sam tucked the envelope into his jeans pocket and reached for his crutches. “Okay, Dean, this is it. I need you to get up and come with me.”

Dean’s attention shifted, his face tilting up to Sam’s, though it was as blank as before. Almost in slow motion he stood, shuffling forward and stopping at Sam’s elbow. “Good Dean. You follow me. Do you understand?”

Dean nodded and Sam felt a little thrill…it quickly vanished though as Jim held the door open. Dean followed blindly as Sam led them down the stairs and through the doorway. Jim brought up the rear, putting their bag in the passenger seat while Sam held the door for Dean. “In the car Dean. We’re going for a drive.”

Sam climbed in beside his brother as Jim got behind the wheel. The cabin looked peaceful. Sam knew it wasn’t. Sam knew they were running away, leaving their father with his hands full. For the moment, Sam couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

Ellen stood at the door and watched the boys leave. She wasn’t going to be far behind them. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to get home, to take her daughter far away from this madness.

“Are they gone?” John asked. 

She nodded. “I’m next. Allen’s gone out to get Caleb.”

“Gabe?”

She shrugged. “Haven’t seen him.” 

Jo came bounding down the stairs. “Gabe’s upstairs on his laptop.”

“I’ll get him.”

“No need.” Gabe came down with his laptop in his hands. “I’m right here.” His face was white. “I think I just found the last Gorlian.”


	45. Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe keeps the revelations coming...but only after saving lives, Sam does his best to reach through to Dean and not fall apart. Jo becomes more Jo like.

Gabe stopped on the last stair, gesturing at his laptop. “If I’m right…” He closed his eyes and shook his head. 

“Gabe?” John moved across the room. “Are you going to tell us?” His hand touched Gabe’s arm and Gabe seemed to shiver. He looked around them.

“Yeah…yeah…but we…we need to go.”

“Go? Go where?”

Gabe shook his head. He was scared. “Anywhere.” He turned the laptop to John, pointing to a clock in the corner of the screen. “I found this when I went to…I was looking for signals from the house itself….and I found something…I found this.”

“It looks like a countdown.”

Gabe nodded. “It is. And we only have five minutes.”

“What are you saying?” Ellen asked, coming to stand by John. 

“I…I think someone set an explosive.”

“Someone?”

“Ash.”

Ellen shook her head. “Ash? Why would Ash do something like that?”

“Four and a half minutes.” 

“Better safe than sorry.” John murmured. “Everyone out.”

“I gotta get Dad and Caleb…and we can’t let Ash see us.”

“I’m telling you Ash couldn’t have done this.”

“No, he totally could have.” Jo said. “He’s been acting weird…well, weirder than normal.”

“Okay, you guys get out the front and head up to the ridge. I’ll see if I can get Allen and Caleb up here.” John said, moving toward the kitchen and the back door. “Gabe, that means you. Go.”

Bobby looked up as he came into the kitchen. “Grab what you can. We’re running.” John said, pointing Bobby toward the living room. “Gabe can explain.”   
John opened the back door and saw Caleb already coming. Allen was still standing by Ash at the shed. “Hey Allen?” He watched Allen look up. “Can I get your help with something?”

Allen nodded and turned back to Ash. John couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could feel the concern creep up. “Now Allen.” John murmured under his breath. 

Caleb was at the stairs. John clapped him on the shoulder. “In the house and out the front door. Up the ridge. Quickly. Allen and I are right behind you.”

Caleb looked like he wanted to ask a question, but John shook his head and that was enough. He looked for Allen and found him jogging toward him. As he neared John eased back in the door, glancing at his watch where Ash couldn’t see him. “What’s up?” Allen asked as he mounted the porch and John gestured into the house. As soon as the door was closed, John grabbed his arm and pushed toward the front of the cabin. “John?”

“We need to move. Gabe found something.”

 

Gabe huffed along behind Jo, adjusting his backpack and glancing behind him for signs of the others. He reached the top of the ridge and tried to calm his breathing. “You two should probably move down the other side a ways. The debris could reach here.”

Bobby pointed down the ridge. “I’m going to see if I can see Ash.”

“Keep your head down.” Gabe said. Bobby nodded and headed down toward the back of the house at a jog.

“Gabe…I don’t understand.” Ellen said, pulling Jo toward her. “How can you think…I mean, it’s Ash. He’s been with me for…god, three years.”

Gabe nodded. “I know Ellen. I’m sorry.” He turned to look back down the hill. “Two minutes.” He bit his tongue and tried not to panic. “Come on. Oh…Caleb.”

He tracked Caleb’s progress up the hill, then skipped down, picking out two other figures too far away to identify. “Come on. Get clear.” He glanced at the countdown. Ninety seconds. “Get down.”

“Shouldn’t you be down here with us?” Jo asked.

“I gotta see where they are, so we can go get them after it blows. They aren’t gonna make it.”

 

John glanced at his watch. One minute. “We’re not gonna make it.” They needed cover. He grabbed Allen’s arm and pointed to the thick stand of trees to their right. “It’s not much…”

The trees were young and dense, and John had to fight his way into them. Allen pressed in behind him and they fell to the ground, covering their heads with their arms as the house heaved up and exploded from the inside. Glass and wood and twisted metal spewed out and up and flames roared into the sky and through blown out windows.

The trees offered them some cover, though glass reached them, cutting into their backs and when John looked up, he found a burning ember starting to burn into Allen’s shirt. He flicked it off and Allen rolled to make sure the shirt didn’t catch.

“You okay?” 

John nodded, taking an inventory of minor injuries. “I didn’t want him to be right.”

“I’ve learned that Gabe doesn’t usually say anything unless he’s pretty sure he is right.”

John looked up toward the ridge, but his line of sight was obscured by smoke. He squinted into the blaze that was already starting to consume what was left. “Shit.” He leaned over Allen, pressing him back to the ground as the flames reached the first of the vehicles and started a chain reaction of secondary explosions. 

“We’re exposed here. If we’re expecting him to think we bought it in the explosion, we better move.” Allen said when John finally released him.

John nodded. He scoped the trees in front of them and pointed. “We can go round the other side.”

 

“Stay here.” Gabe said, giving Ellen the binoculars he’d fished out of his back pack.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Dad and John seem to be moving on their own. I gotta go for Caleb.”

Jo stood and peered over the top of the ridge. “Where is he?”

“He’s about fifty feet down. I saw him dive for cover.” He dropped his backpack at Jo’s feet. “Just stay here. I’ll explain everything once we’re all together again.”

His heart fluttered as he moved back down the slope, moving toward the last place he’d seen Caleb. “Please be okay.” He dropped to a squat as he spotted movement, his eyes sweeping around him carefully. He didn’t think that Ash would venture out here just yet, but he wanted to be careful. This could be the first time they were actually ahead of the game…if he was right.

There was a groan off to his right. He moved slowly, until he saw Caleb’s head lifting from the ground. “Caleb!” His voice was soft, but urgent. Caleb held up a hand to let him know he was okay and rolled over slowly. “Anything broken?” Gabe asked as he knelt beside him.

Caleb shook his head and sat up. “I’m okay. You?”

“Yeah.” Gabe licked his lips. He wasn’t sure quite what to do. He reached out a hand for Caleb’s arm. “I saw you go down…and I…”

Caleb took Gabe’s hand and held it between them for a moment. Then he lifted it to his face. “I’m okay.”

Gabe nodded and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Caleb’s lips. “We should get up to meet the others.”

Caleb groaned as he got to his feet. “I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.” 

Gabe grinned at that. “More than you were this morning?”

Caleb blushed and Gabe grinned harder. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

 

Bobby laid on his belly along the ridge, watching as Ash disappeared into the trees, just before the place went up, taking the shed with it. At least that solved one of their problems. Michael Harvelle was dead. He didn’t imagine the manner of his demise would sit well with John, but it wasn’t blood on their hands anymore either.

It didn’t make any sense. 

He scratched at his beard and watched the house burn. He ducked his head when the first of the cars went up, then inched backward, putting the ridge between him and the house. He got back to Ellen and Jo before the others and sat with them. “Ash walked away.”

Ellen looked like she was in shock, her face kind of blank. “Michael?”

“Dead. The shed went up too.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Obviously Ash was playing us.” Jo said, turning around to squint at the smoke. “And Gabe figured it out. Good thing. Or we’d all be cooked right now.” 

“It’s a hot fire all right.” Bobby said. 

“Not Ash.” Ellen said. “He…” Jo sat back down and touched her mother’s hand. 

“I told you he was squirrelly Mom. Right from the start.”

“You said he was a dirty old man in a boy’s body.”

Jo shrugged. “Same thing.” 

“Everyone okay?” John’s voice rumbled up to them from below just as he and Allen appeared. 

“Where’s Gabe?”

“Went for Caleb.” Ellen said, pointing over her shoulder. 

“We need to get out of here.” John said as the sound of sirens started to reach them. “We need to go. Before they start searching the wreckage.”

“I second that.” Gabe said as he and Caleb came up over the top and down to where the others waited. He reached to take his backpack back from Jo. “I’ll explain once we’ve gotten some distance.”

“Where are we going to go? We don’t have a car.” Jo said as she got to her feet.

“We’ll need to get away from here, then figure that out.” John said, gesturing for her to follow Bobby who was already setting off down the hill.

 

Sam sat in the back seat of Pastor Jim’s car, his brother’s head in his lap, stroking his fingers through Dean’s hair. He was already thinking about where they would go….someplace even their father wouldn’t think to look.

Robert was right when he said they had patterns, and Sam was determined not to fall into them. North. He’d head them north. Somewhere off the beaten path…Or a city. A big city. New York. He’d get them an apartment in New York City.

No. The noise and the people. Dean needed quiet. Dean needed peace. He looked down at Dean. His eyes were closed, his knees bent. Dean needed a psychiatrist. Maybe they both did.

“You okay back there?”

Sam lifted his eyes to Pastor Jim’s and nodded slowly. “Just thinking.”

“About you…or Dean?”

Sam sighed softly. “Both, actually.”

“Feel like sharing?”

Sam closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat. “Just…wondering if we’ll ever…if Dean will be okay…If I’m going to be enough to make him okay. I’ve thought about…getting help.”

“You mean, outside of me?” 

“No offense. I just…he’s so…broken.”

“I think maybe you’re the only one he will respond to Sam. I do know that if you took him to a psychiatrist like he is, they’d lock him away. They’d put him somewhere and they’d try. But he’d never come out again.”

“You think taking him away is the right thing?”

Jim’s eyes were compassionate when they met Sam’s in the rear view mirror. “I think it’s the only thing, Sam. At least until he decides to rejoin us.”

“How long til we get to Tulsa?” 

“It’ll be late. You should try to rest. I’ll wake you when we stop.”

 

John called a halt in a grove of trees, and almost as one they all turned to Gabe. He nodded, sinking to the ground and drawing his knees up to his chest. “Okay…I don’t really have everything…and…I’m not sure about what I do know….think I know. And…” He closed his eyes. 

Caleb sat beside him, not touching, but there, comforting. Gabe swallowed and looked up at his father. “So Michael Harvelle married a woman named Carry Ellison. He had two sons. They were named after Michael’s brother and Carry’s brother. William and Ashley.”

“Wait.” Ellen held up her hand. “Are you saying that Ash is Michael’s son?”

“But Ash just killed Michael.” John said, squinting at Gabe.

“Well…I didn’t say they had a good relationship, just that Ash was born Ashley Ellison Harvelle. When his mother was killed, he dropped off the map. I couldn’t find much. He reappeared at MIT as Ash Anderson.”

“Okay, so none of this points to him betraying us.” Ellen said.

Gabe held up his hand. “I’m going to be the first to admit that my case is mostly circumstantial. Ash has the skills to do the computer work. He installed the camera at the cabin. The camera that caught two stills of a man parking just off the road and carrying a box up the drive. The car was registered to one Billy Anderson.”

He opened the laptop and punched a few keys. “The signal I found came from the basement…where Ash spent most of the morning. I’m still piecing it all together, but here’s the last stunner for now. Andrew Ellis.”

“Andrew?”

Gabe nodded. “Andrew Ellis, aka Ashley Ellison, aka Aaron Sumners, aka Allen Gorlian.” He turned the computer around and waved a hand at the document displayed. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it. The land we’re currently standing on belongs to Ellis Investments, which is owned by Sumners Trading, which is owned by a conglomerate of holding companies and subsidiaries that trace back to Gorlian Industries.”

“We’ve been living in the lion’s den.” John said, as he sank to the ground.

“And the lion just evicted us.” Bobby replied. 

“Forcibly.” Allen added.

Ellen chewed on her lip while she paced around them. “I…all this time? I mean….I’ve known Andrew…since before Jo was born. And Ash…”

“Oh! Eww.” Jo said, shivering. “This makes that whole cousin discussion even more gross.”

John sighed heavily and rubbed his hands over his face. “Do we know if Ash saw the boys leave?”

“Won’t matter if the blast didn’t take out the camera at the end of the drive.” Allen said. “They’ll see that the boys got away, eventually.”

Bobby squinted up into the sky. It would be dark before long. “We need to find shelter for the night. In the morning, we need to find transportation and get out of the area.”

“We can’t go to town.” John said. “Can’t risk running into them. We need them to think we went up with the house.”

“Won’t they figure out that we weren’t there?” Jo asked. “I mean, once the fire’s out?”

“They might…but…that fire’s burning really hot and with the explosions…there wouldn’t be much left.” Bobby said. “By morning all that will be left is the foundation.”

 

Sam stirred as the car slowed. He hadn’t really been sleeping, but the light doze had let the miles slip by unnoticed. Jim glanced over his shoulder. “I need coffee. Want anything?”

Sam stretched. “Coffee’s good.”

“Be back.” 

Sam’s hand lay flat against Dean’s chest, over his heart. He looked from it up to Dean’s face. He was startled to see Dean’s eyes open. “Dean?”

Something of a pained expression crossed Dean’s face. “S-sam?”

“Yeah, Dean. It’s me.”

“Can’t…” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Hurts.”

Sam nodded, his hand lifting to touch Dean’s face. “I know. It’s okay. You don’t have to…I’m here. I’m going to be here. It’s okay.” He let one finger trace Dean’s cheek, then bent forward to press tender kisses along his forehead. “You…you’re safe…okay? Safe to do whatever you need to.”

Dean turned his head so that his face was nuzzled against Sam’s thigh. “I love you Dean.” Sam whispered as Dean relaxed…and just like that he was gone again.

 

John bent to feed a little more wood into the small fire that was all they dared for warmth. All around the fire his friends huddled together, preserving body heat. None of them would sleep well. He looked up to where Ellen stood apart. She was taking Ash’s betrayal pretty hard…and he didn’t know how to make it better.

He slipped up behind her, letting his arms slide around her waist and pulling her back against him. Her head fell forward and she resisted for a minute, then relaxed back into him. “It isn’t your fault,” he offered softly, his voice low and rumbling in his chest.

“I should have known.” She settled her hands over his and sighed. “That boy lived under my roof for three years, John.”

“I know.”

“With my daughter.”

“I know.”

“When I think what could have happened…”

John tightened his hold on her and leaned close, brushing her ear with his cheek. “Jo is fine. The boys are safe. Two of the three men responsible are dead. We know who the third is. We know about Ash and his brother. We’re safe. Stop. Just let go.”

“I can’t.” Ellen was trembling in his arms. 

“You can.” John whispered. He kissed the side of her face and she turned in the circle of his arms, pressing herself against him. “It’s okay Ellen. You’ve been strong so long. I’ve got you.” 

She shuddered and he could feel her gulping against the tears. He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I’ve got you,” he whispered again and he felt her let go, crying into his t-shirt. He kissed her again, lips to the top of her head while his hands stroked over her back and she melted against him. When she turned her face to him, he rubbed a big thumb over her cheeks, wiping away tears. She looked so fragile standing there…and fragile wasn’t a word he would use to describe Ellen often. His lips glazed over hers, and she opened them slightly, hesitantly inviting him in for more. 

John slid a hand up into her hair and tilted her head back, his lips finding their way back to hers, angling and letting his tongue move against hers. She groaned and he swallowed the sound, pulling her closer. 

She laid her head against his chest when they finally parted, feeling stronger in his arms. “Thank you.” 

“I’ll stand watch. You go get some rest.” John said, a hand ghosting over her hair.

They stepped apart and turned to look at the others. “It does look like Gabe could use some help.” 

Jo was spooned up beside Gabe, her head on his shoulder, her legs all but twined in his and Gabe looked…distressed. On his other side Caleb was curled tightly to conserve body heat. “Yeah…he doesn’t look comfortable.”

“Jo does.” Ellen countered. “It would be cute, if he didn’t look so afraid.”

John chuckled. “I don’t think Gabe gets much attention from the girls. He’s always been the geekiest hunter I’ve ever known.”

“Jo doesn’t care about geek, just the hunter part. Add in the fact that he just saved her life…I think my daughter may have finally moved on from Casey Doughtery.”

“She had a crush on Casey? Isn’t he like twice her age?”

Ellen nodded. “Yeah, at least Gabe’s only a few years older.”

“Maybe you should go rescue the poor boy.”

She stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek. “I will. Make sure you get some rest too.”

John nodded with a soft smile. “Yes ma’am.”

 

It was still a few hours before dawn when Sam felt the car slowing again. He looked up as they turned in to a motel. “Still about an hour until Tulsa, Sam. But I need to sleep.” 

Sam nodded. The hurry was over. They’d gotten out. They were safe. He brushed a finger along Dean’s face. “Dean? I need you to wake up.”

Dean’s body tensed and his eyes opened, but there was no flash of recognition, no indication he’d actually heard Sam or felt anything. “Sit up Dean. We’ll be getting out of the car.” 

By the time Jim came back with the key to the room, Dean was sitting, his hands in his lap. They pulled around the office and up to #9. Jim didn’t say anything, just grabbed their bag and his own and headed in. Sam sighed and leaned over Dean to open the door. “Okay, out of the car.” 

Sam crawled out behind him and swallowed the fear in his throat. “Come on.” He led the way and Dean followed, standing dully in the door until Sam told him to go sit on the bed. 

Sam watched Pastor Jim crawl into the other bed, yawning as he pulled the blanket up over him. “Just a few hours. So I don’t drive us off the road.”

Sam nodded. The room was dark. It wouldn’t be long before the first rays of sun would seep in around the dingy curtains. It was a room like so many other rooms. Like the one where Dean had offered himself up to Sam.

_”I want this…with you. I pretended it was you…I survived because of you. Every time they used me…every time I obeyed…it was for you…Sam…”_

That first spark, after Sam had taken off the collar. The first shock to Dean’s conditioning. It went away fast, and Sam realized now that it hadn’t been real…it had been little more than Dean adjusting the conditioning…accepting, collating everything he had been trained for with the burst of memory of his brother.

Sam lowered himself into one of the chairs at the table and sighed heavily. He’d been so relieved to have Dean with him, so eager to believe he could make him better. He hadn’t known yet how badly broken Dean was. Hadn’t begun to understand the depth of the conditioning. 

Dean sat on the end of the bed, staring at the floor. Reduced to blind of obedience. Worse than he’d been that first night. Sam almost found himself wishing for a collar, something to pull Dean out….something to take them back to the beginning. Almost. Because Sam wasn’t sure he could be that for him again. Not after everything.


	46. Moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunters weather the night, and break into groups to get out of the woods and back to civilization without getting caught. Sam and Dean are reunited with the Impala. Jo works a little harder to get Gabe's attention.

It was a cold morning. John had already hiked out to determine their relation to the road. Ellen and Jo were curled together next to Gabe, who was sleeping with his backpack as a pillow, his arms tucked under his arm pits for warmth. Allen moved among the group, shaking people awake. Bobby groaned as he sat up. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

Allen smirked and moved to Gabe. “I’m awake.” Gabe murmured before Allen touched him.

“Good. You have your GPS?”

Gabe nodded and pulled his backpack out from under his head. “In there.” He nudged Caleb with his knee and Caleb moaned. “You up?” Gabe asked.

Caleb rolled over toward Gabe, then opened his eyes. He blinked and shifted to sit up. “I am now.”

“What time is it?” Jo asked, sitting up and moving away from her mother.

“Almost seven.” John said as he returned to camp. “The road is that way.” He pointed behind him. “The nearest town is that way.” He pointed back toward the cabin. “I figure that isn’t going to be safe.”

“I’ve been thinking. Our best bet is to break into small groups, maybe hitch in the opposite direction. Meet up in Loran, east of here.” Allen said. He stood up with the GPS and switched it on. “If we stagger our trips out to the road, we should do okay.” 

“You think we’re far enough away that we don’t have to worry about it being Ash or Billy or Andrew picking us up?” John asked, peering over Allen’s shoulder at the instrument.

“I’m not saying it isn’t risky. Just beats walking the….13 miles to Loran.”

“Thirteen miles?” Jo groaned.

Ellen chuckled. “I’ve walked further for less, Jo. It isn’t bad.”

“We should try for non-threatening groups then. Me and Caleb, John, Ellen and Jo, Gabe and Allen.” Bobby said, kicking dirt over what was left of their fire.

“I’ll go with Gabe.” Jo said brightly.

Gabe turned to Caleb, his eyes wide. Caleb chuckled. “Maybe we should keep the parents with their respective offspring for now.”

Jo’s face fell and Ellen held up her hands. “You’re with me young lady.” Ellen said. “I’ve had you out of my sight long enough this last week.” Jo pouted. “Okay, who’s first?”

“Gabe and I will go last. We’ll keep our ears to the ground, make sure we’re not being followed.” Allen said, handing the GPS back to Gabe.

“Caleb and I will take point then.” Bobby said, slapping Caleb’s arm. “You ready to hit it?”

Caleb nodded, his eyes flashing to Gabe’s. “You be careful.” He said it softly as he stepped past him and he briefly felt Gabe’s hand on his elbow. “There’s a diner in Loran. We’ll meet you guys there.”

 

The all night diner was mostly empty at 10am when Sam sat Dean down in the booth. Pastor Jim joined him, slipping onto the opposite bench. “I hate Tulsa.”

Sam looked up, surprised. Jim smiled. “I had a really bad day here in Tulsa when I was…younger than you.” He looked at the menu. “Order whatever you want, my treat. We’ll head down to the impound yard after we eat.”

“Did you get a hold of them?”

Jim nodded. “Yes. Storage fees are going to be steep, but nothing I can’t handle. We should have you two on the road by noon.”

“Good.” Sam looked up as the waitress came over.

“What can I get you boys?”

“Coffee to start.” Jim said. 

“Yeah, and I’ll have two eggs, over medium, bacon, hash browns.” Sam said.

“I’ll have the same.”

“And what about you sweetie?” she asked, looking at Dean.

Dean’s hand squeezed Sam’s knee under the table, and Sam looked at him. There was panic in his eyes. “Um…he’ll have the waffles.” Sam said without looking at her. “You like waffles, right Dean?”

Sam’s hand slipped under Dean’s and squeezed. Dean turned to hide his face. “It’s okay, Dean. She’s gone.” Sam whispered. He didn’t let go of Dean’s hand though. He felt Pastor Jim’s eyes and looked up. “It’s not exactly the same as when I first found him, but it’s close. During his last months…there…he was kept with pretty much only James for company…and then ignored except when James required service.”

“So people are…frightening.”

Sam nodded. He inhaled sharply. “I’m not even sure I can get him to eat.”

“We can take it with us if he won’t. He can eat later.”

Sam smiled at the waitress when she set three cups of coffee down. “Could we get some water also?”

“Sure thing sweets.” 

“So, Sam…when you first…found Dean…how did you deal with him?” Jim asked, settling back against the bench.

Sam shook his head. “I tried to talk to him like nothing had changed…and I tried to give him what he needed at the time. Security, something to do. It was…hard. But, he had routines…they kept him calm…and gave him structure. We may have taken him too far from those for them to help much now though.”

“You did good work, from what I’ve seen. Maybe you missed your calling.”

Sam shook his head. “No…I couldn’t do this for anyone else.”

Jim lifted his coffee and tested it, then set it down and reached for the sugar. “You know, the first time I ever met you boys, you were three. Dean was seven, and already a cheeky kid. He was defiant and mouthy, except to your father. I figured him for trouble. Until I saw him with you.”

Jim stirred his coffee and smiled at Sam. “Your Dad was hurt, and you were crying. Dean took your hand and walked you over to a pew and calmed you down, gave you exactly what you needed to be able to deal with the situation.”

Sam stroked a hand through Dean’s hair. “He’s always taken care of me. Now it’s my turn.”

“Are you ready to have to do that the rest of your life Sam?” Jim asked softly.

Sam looked aside at Dean. His brother’s hand was still on his knee, but he was staring vacantly out into the parking lot. Sam sighed and thanked the waitress as she set glasses of water on the table. He put one in front of Dean. “Here, Dean. Are you thirsty?”

Dean looked at the glass but didn’t move. “It’s here if you want it, okay?”

Sam sighed again. He was tired already…and they weren’t even alone yet. He had to wonder if he even had what it was going to take to see it through. He nodded though, looking back at the older man across the table from him. “Yes. Forever. Even if this is all I ever get in return.”

 

Bobby and Caleb got a lift to the bottom of the hill, and were back on foot, keeping an eye out for truckers or anyone who looked like they might offer a lift to two men whose luck had run out.

“So…you doing better these days?” Bobby asked without really looking at Caleb.

“Yeah, smooth, Bobby.” Caleb said with a laugh. “I’m better, yes.”

“Is that because you’ve gotten over it…or because you’ve gotten in to something else?”

Caleb looked at him, mouth open. “I—what?”

It was Bobby’s turn to chuckle. “Why is it everyone thinks I’m blind?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Caleb said, turning as a semi came toward them, sticking his thumb out.

“I’m talking about Gabe.” Bobby said and Caleb just stopped, his hand dropping. The truck roared past them, then started slowing.

“I’m not…I…come on, we got a ride.” Caleb said.

“Yeah, that’s smooth too.” Bobby said with a grin. They both jogged to the truck and Caleb climbed up, opening the passenger side door. “Hey.” He smiled at the blond woman behind the wheel. “Got room for two beat up farmers on their way to Loran?”

“You boys lose your ride?”

“Yeah, his old woman kicked us out of the car a few miles back.” Caleb said, hitching his thumb over the shoulder at Bobby.

“Climb on in. Can’t take you all the way to Loran, but my freeway is just a mile or two outside it. You can ride with me that far.”

“Thank you.”

 

“You ready?” John asked, wrapping one arm around Jo’s slender shoulders. 

She dragged her eyes off of Gabe and nodded, swatting at an imaginary bug. “To get out of this bug infested forest? Yes. A world of yes.”

John chuckled. “You boys be safe.”

“You too.” Allen said. “See you in Loran.”

Gabe waved goodbye while keeping his father between him and Jo. Allen chuckled. “Looks like you have an admirer.”

Gabe made a face. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“She’s a good kid.”

“Operative word: Kid.”

Allen chuckled again. “You could do worse.”

“Not interested Dad. Can we drop it?”

Allen nodded, then gestured at the radio in Gabe’s hands. “You getting anything?”

Gabe shook his head. “No…and yes…some local chatter about the fire…they’re reporting it as an electrical fire. It’s burned to the ground.” He held the ear piece tighter to his ear. “Oh. They found the body.”

Allen frowned at him. “What?”

“Gorlian…um, Michael. They’re saying that the owner’s brother in law was staying there…found dead….they’ll need dental records to confirm…” He listened. “They say they’ll never know if there was anyone else in the house itself, fire burned extremely hot. There isn’t enough left.”

“What are you listening to?”

Gabe grinned. “Gotta love geeky town gossips. I think the one is called Mabel and the other one is Tessa…Mabel lives in town. Tessa used to, but I haven’t figured out where she is.”

Allen shook his head. “You’re listening to the local gossips?”

Gabe shrugged. “Good source of information. That’s all I got, they’re talking about American Idol now.” He shuddered and pulled the ear piece out. “How long should we wait?”

“At least an hour.” 

Gabe shoved the radio into his backpack and sat on the ground. 

“Don’t suppose you’ve got any food in there.”

“Not anymore. I used to have some trail mix, but I took it out to make room for my PDA.”

“Only my son would pack survival gear that includes a PDA, but not food.”

“Hey, I get my geek from you.” Gabe said defensively. “And don’t deny it. I’ve seen your survival gear too…and at least one of us walked away with some equipment. You left yours on the porch.”

“Touché.” Allen settled to the ground near Gabe, leaning against the tree. “So, there’s no elegant segue, I’m just going to ask.”

Gabe stiffened but nodded.

“You doing better?”

Gabe tried to suppress the frown and nodded. “Yeah, Dad. I am.”

“I can’t help but notice that working with Caleb has been good for you. Maybe when all this is over you and he can work out an arrangement to hunt together…I mean…if you still want to hunt…and not…you know…go back to school.”

Gabe smirked and stopped him. He wasn’t ready for the Caleb conversation, not with his father. Everything with Caleb was still so new and…he wasn’t really sure where it was going to go. School though, that he could do. “Dad…my school was all about the hunting, you know that right?”

“I just don’t want to see you throw away a future that would make you happy.”

“And you think that because I have above average intelligence and two bachelor degrees at 18, I can only be happy out there?”

Allen shook his head. “I’ve been out there, Gabe. I know how rewarding it can be. I’m not saying you have to…you know, work for NASA or anything.”

Gabe turned to face his father. “Dad. I know I freaked out a little for a while. But I’m okay. And…I’m better than okay.” He licked his lips. “For the first time in my life, I actually fit in. I can use my skills to help people, Dad. To save them. I…I’m happier right now, sitting here in the woods with you than I ever was at school. Okay?”

Allen nodded. “Okay. I just…I’m your father. It’s my job.”

Gabe put a hand on his shoulder. “And you’re doing an excellent job….you know…for a guy who never finished his PhD.”

 

Sam could hear the Impala long before he saw it, and when he did, when Jim pulled out of the yard in it, Sam felt a rush of something like comfort. She was dusty from the weeks in the yard, but seemed intact. “Look Dean. It’s your car.” Sam said.

Jim pulled out onto the street and did a U-turn to park behind them. Sam had the car door open and was standing, reaching for Dean before Jim was even out of the Impala.

“You’re going to need gas.” Jim said as he came around to help Sam manage their bag, his crutches and Dean. “You sure you’re going to be okay to drive?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah…I’m fine. Glad it’s my left leg.”

“Okay, let’s get you going.”

“Out of the car, Dean. We’re leaving Pastor Jim.”

“You boys be careful.” Sam nodded and tucked his crutches into the back seat.

“You too, Pastor Jim. We’re…really grateful.”

Dean was in the passenger seat, one hand on the dash of the car. Sam climbed in beside him and sighed. It felt a little like home to feel the familiar leather against his back. “Where you want to go Dean? Got an idea?” He put on the blinker and pulled out into the street. They had a quarter of a tank of gas, but there was a gas station on the corner.

Dean didn’t move as Sam filled the gas tank, and Sam hurried to get them on the road, to get them on the first interstate he could find. It seemed like forever since it was just him and Dean. He covered Dean’s hand with his own. “Just us, okay, Dean? Everything’s going to be just fine.”

“Fine.” Dean said in echo. Sam looked at him, but nothing had changed.

He lifted the hand to brush over Dean’s hair. “Maybe we’ll get you a hair cut. Would you like that?” 

Dean’s hand reached up and took Sam’s, bringing it back down to the seat. Sam wasn’t sure if that was an answer or Dean telling him to stop being such a girl, but it was enough…for now it was enough.

 

The road sign said that Loran was two and half miles away when the truck pulled over on the side of the road. Caleb thanked their driver, while Bobby opened the door and climbed out. “Hope it all works out for you.” Caleb said with a smile. They’d gotten to listen to her life story in the short trip…all about the drama with her ex and her sister and…Caleb was glad to be getting out of the truck.

After she’d pulled away, and the dust had settled, he and Bobby started walking. “So, you gonna answer me?” Bobby asked.

“Do you not know how to mind your own business? Caleb asked, shaking his head.

“You know me.” Bobby lifted his baseball cap and scratched at his head. “I see stuff. I notice.”

“Well, stop.” 

“Can’t. Gabe’s just a kid.”

“Is this going to be a discussion about age? Because I seem to recall you like pretty girls about twenty years younger than you.”

“That’s not fair. She came on to me.”

“We were working, Bobby.” Caleb said.

“And you’re trying to change the subject.”

Caleb stopped walking, grabbing Bobby by the arm. “Okay. Look. I don’t know what this is. I mean…it’s not like I was looking for…anything, especially not after…” He shook his head. Not where he wanted this to go. “We’re going slow, okay?”

“He’s fragile.”

Caleb laughed at that. “Gabe? Maybe you’re not blind, but you should have your eyes checked.” He shook his head. “He’s a lot stronger than any of you have given him credit for.”

“You be careful with that boy.”

Caleb nodded. “Okay. We done now?”

Bobby smirked. “Yeah…I think so.”

 

_” You…you’re safe…okay? Safe to do whatever you need to.”_

He didn’t know the voice right away, but the words cut through the fog and made him think maybe he should…maybe he should open his eyes again. Maybe he should see…do….something.

But he didn’t know what…and he felt safe in the dark, with his eyes closed and the feeling of moving…moving…it felt familiar and warm, yet…frightening. He opened his eyes slowly.

Car. A different car from before. He vaguely recalled getting out. There was food…no, something else. 

He glanced aside at the man driving. Like the voice, he was supposed to know. 

Sam. It took a long time, but there it was. Sam. 

Sam smiled at him, and he looked away. He didn’t know how to react to a smile…not that kind of smile. 

“Dean?”

He blinked and stared out at the highway. Dean. Sam called him Dean. He sort of remembered that too. Not everyone did. Slave. Whore. Cocksucker. Brother-fucker. Son. Dean. Nothing. No one. Alone.

It was too much to try to put right. Made his head hurt. Made tiny sounds in his throat. Sam touched him then. His skin was hot on his hand. 

_No one touches a slave but his Master without Master’s approval._

He twitched, almost pulled his hand away. _Never flinch_. Almost.

_“Yours, Sam?”_

_“Yes, Dean. Mine.”_

_“Always.”_

_“Always.”_

His free hand slid up to his neck, where there had been a collar. There wasn’t now. It had been taken away. 

_“A slave earns the right to wear the collar. I…was good enough once. I could be again.”_

“Dean? What’s wrong?”

They were slowing down. Dean blinked and distantly realized he was crying. He shook his head as the car came to a stop and Sam turned to him. “Dean, look at me.”

He didn’t hesitate, couldn’t not obey. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

He didn’t have words. His breathing sped up and he shook his head. “Don’t…can’t…”

Sam’s hand touched his face, brushed away the tears. “It’s okay Dean. You don’t have to. I just want to make it better. Can I?”

Dean frowned. _“Mine, Dean. You belong to me…always…”_

“Sam.”

Sam nodded, his green eyes so open and Dean felt like they could swallow him whole if he could just make himself small enough to fit inside them. It terrified him.

“Tired,” he said finally…lowering his gaze.

Sam looked away and nodded. “You want to lay down in the back seat?”

Want. He didn’t understand want. Sam sighed beside him. “Get in the back seat and lay down, Dean. We have a long drive.”

Dean opened his door and got out of the car, then climbed into the back. “Lay down and get some rest, Dean.”

He turned toward the back, turned his face in to the leather of the seat, tried to make himself smaller, tried to make himself disappear. Not good enough for a collar, not strong enough for Sam. 

Dean. He knew that name. Once upon a time it had even been his name. Like the collar…it wasn’t his any more.


	47. Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunters regroup. Sam and Dean head north. Gabe questions what is happening between him and Caleb. Dean surprises Sam.

Gabe’s eyes scanned the diner, and he pointed to the back where he could see Jo waving at them. “Looks like everyone’s here.”

“I’m going to the restroom. Get me something to drink and a burger or something.” Allen said, slipping into the corridor under the restroom sign.

Gabe nodded and headed back. “You guys made good time.” John said.

“Yeah…we got lucky.”

“We just got here ourselves.” John said.

“Saved you a seat though.” Jo said, scooting closer to her mother. 

Gabe rolled his eyes, but slid into the booth next to her, leaving the empty chair on the outside for his father. “Got some news on the radio coming in.”

He looked up at the waitress and ordered his father a lemonade and his hamburger and a glass of water and fried chicken for himself. “The FBI has seized all property associated with the Gorlian organization, and several prominent people have been arrested. Including two FBI higher ups.” He smiled thank you to the waitress and took a long drink from his water. “The two missing Gorlians are presumed dead.”

“Anything tying our fire with them?” Ellen asked. 

Gabe shook his head. “Ash probably covered their tracks well. He probably knew we’d find the connection when he finally broke into the data I stole.” He made a face as Allen joined them. “I don’t like to admit it, but he’s better than I am.”

“So. Here we are. What’s next?” Bobby asked, looking to John. 

John nodded slowly. “Next? You all get on buses, or into cars or whatever, and get on with your lives.” He downed his own glass of water as they stared at them. “I hunt down Andrew and his nephews and finish this.”

Ellen shook her head. “We can’t leave you alone. And, for that matter, we can’t just go back to our lives. Ash knows where Jo and I live, where Bobby lives. He can find where Caleb lives easy enough.”

John held up his hands. “I’m not going to argue with you Ellen. You probably can’t go _home_ just yet. But I don’t want you out here anymore.”

Bobby crossed his arms and stared at John for a minute. “So…you’re trying to leave your boys with nothing but each other, as broken up as they are?”

“Don’t start with me Bobby.”

“None of us will be safe until their done. Gone.” Allen said softly. He didn’t often disagree with John Winchester, and heaven knew he wanted Gabe out of this before anything more happened to him, but he knew he spoke the truth. “Ash thinks he got us, and there’s no telling where the three of them are by now. It’s been 24 hours.”

“Well, if I can get somewhere with a wireless connection, I can probably trace Ash…unless he found the virus.” Gabe said. They all looked up at him as he took his food from the waitress. “What?”

“Gabe, what virus?” Allen asked patiently.

Gabe grinned and shoved two French fries into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before answering. “The one I tunneled into the data I knew he’d try to destroy.”

Allen crossed his arms and stared at his son. “What? I said he was better. I’m still smarter.” He shrugged. “When I realized…before I found the signal…I cleaned up the tracks that would lead him to the replication sites, and buried a virus into the original set of data, one that would attach itself to his machine when he deleted the data. If he’s using the computer…and hasn’t wiped it…or found the virus, I should be able to track what he’s doing…maybe piggyback and find a location.”

“That’s a lot of ifs.” John grumbled.

“And a pretty big maybe.” Bobby added.

“You got something better?” Caleb asked them, leaning forward. No one said anything. “Didn’t think so.”

 

North. Sam had decided north. So he drove. He tried not to think, just drive. Get them away, get them far enough away that he wasn’t watching in the rear view for someone following them…so he didn’t twitch every time a man looked at them for longer than a casual glance.

North. From Tulsa, Oklahoma. Through Kansas. West into Colorado. 

It felt like re-treading old familiar steps. Like he’d been here. Which he had. He stopped them in Denver. Stopped them with Dean pretending to sleep and Sam’s bladder was full and he had a desperate need for coffee. 

“Dean. I’m going to go inside and pee. Do you need to go?”

His eyes opened. That was something. Sam closed his door, opened the back door. “Come on Dean. It’s time to take care of your body’s needs okay? You need to pee, get cleaned up. Eat.”

Dean sat up slowly, his legs sliding out of the car. “Cold.”

Sam shivered, as if he needed Dean to tell him it was cold. “Yeah. It is. Let’s get inside.”

A full service truck stop with convenient store and diner and showers in the back…Sam guided Dean through, past the displays of Colorado t-shirts and into the bathroom. “Do you need help Dean?” Sam asked softly, not really caring if they were over heard. 

Dean shook his head. “Okay. You go ahead. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Sam slid into a stall and unzipped. He was tired. So freaking tired. He wanted to curl up in a bed with Dean and sleep for a month. More. Almost wanted to never wake up. 

That thought should startle him, but instead it was soothing. The thought of finally letting go and having Dean in his arms forever…Sam leaned against the wall of the stall and relieved himself, his eyes closed. He just wanted to forget…to rewind it all to before he left…and never leave…never hurt Dean the way he had…never run away.

He stood there until he heard some small sound of distress that reminded him of Dean. Shaking his head, Sam stood upright, flushed and tucked himself in before coming out of the stall to find Dean standing alone beside the stall he’d gone into. “It’s okay Dean. I’m right here.”

“Gone. You were gone.” Dean said and Sam nodded. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m here now though, okay?” Sam didn’t know if he should be relieved Dean was talking or distressed at how far he had regressed…and instead of either he chose to shut down any feeling at all, and just deal.

“Let’s wash up and get something to eat. Then we can get on the road again.” Dean let Sam wash his hands and Sam herded him back out into the store, rounding up a small horde of food easy to eat on the road, along with a few packages of caffeine pills and a cup of coffee.

Dean stood beside the passenger door and waited while Sam put the food in the backseat. “You riding up front with me, Dean?” Sam asked. He knew it was important to keep talking, because eventually Dean would respond. He unlocked the door and held it open for Dean, then hobbled around to the other side. The cast had to come off. “I’m thinking maybe we’ll stop somewhere tomorrow, get a room, get some sleep. We can get your hair cut, maybe some new clothes.”

Sam started the car and pulled them out, merging in with the trucks that seemed to be the only traffic at this hour. North. Out of Denver. Away from the pattern that would have taken them west into Utah, on their way to California. North. 

 

“I got nothing.” Gabe said, flopping on to the bed in frustration, his laptop bobbling on the mattress next to him. Caleb looked up from the magazine he was reading.

“You’ve been at it for hours. Why don’t you take a break?”

“Easy for you to say…you don’t have the weight of John Winchester’s expectations riding on your shoulders.” He sighed. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have said anything. I wasn’t sure…I hadn’t checked…I’m not that reckless.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. We’re all tired. We’re all stressed. We’ve all made mistakes.”

That only made Gabe pout. Pout. Which only furthered his frustration with himself. Because…maybe that’s all this was, maybe Caleb only saw him as a mistake…something he wouldn’t have done if he hadn’t been so…broken…and god what kind of monster was he, that he could take advantage of a friend like that?

He ran a hand over his face. No one had even argued when Caleb had divided them up into groups for the rooms. No one had said a thing when Gabe disappeared into Caleb’s room. He sighed again.

“What can I do to help?” Caleb asked, putting down the magazine and turning toward Gabe.

“Help?” Gabe’s voice was little more than a squeak. He shook his head. “Nothing.” No, he was pretty well fucked without any help. He could see that. “I think…I’ll take a shower…maybe if I walk away for a bit…” He stood up and pulled his shirt off, dropping it on the bed before kicking off his shoes and heading toward the bathroom.

He was at the bathroom door when Caleb cleared his throat. “You want company?”

Gabe turned to look at him, but Caleb wasn’t looking at Gabe, he had his head down, looking at the floor. Gabe held his breath for a moment, then walked back to Caleb, one hand on his chin. He didn’t know what to say. “I…do…but…I think I need…” He sighed. “For right now, I need some time to think, okay?”

Caleb nodded. Somehow though, Gabe wasn’t sure if Caleb understood…or really if he even did. Not that he didn’t…like what was happening between them…maybe he liked it too much…maybe now wasn’t the time…maybe he was just starting to realize how wrong the whole thing was.

He walked away, stopped again at the bathroom door. “I…just don’t want to rush…break…” He wanted to say that he didn’t want to break Caleb any more than he was already broken…but he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come out. 

Caleb inhaled deeply and the sound was jarring. Gabe stiffened. “I don’t want you to hate me.” Gabe said finally, softly. “I don’t want to be some mistake you made because you weren’t thinking straight.”

Caleb nodded slowly and stood. His hand was soft on Gabe’s cheek. “You will never be a mistake, Gabe. Never.”

Gabe closed his eyes. He wanted to believe that. “I took advantage of you…I shouldn’t have…”

Caleb’s kiss startled him, though it was soft, tender even. “Gabe, you didn’t take anything. I gave it to you.”

Gabe’s eyes opened again…searching Caleb’s face. “Yeah?”

Caleb nodded. “Yeah.” He stepped back to give Gabe room to get into the bathroom. “But if you want it to be just…that…just what we did…if you don’t want more…”

“No.” Gabe’s hand was on his arm now, pulling him back. “No…it isn’t that. God…not that.” He kissed Caleb now, his self doubt pushed back a little as Caleb’s lips parted easily. He shook his head as he pulled back. “When this whole mess with Andrew is over, you and I need to find time to work this whole thing out.”

Caleb grinned. “I’m sure we can arrange something.”

Gabe blushed and rolled his eyes. “I really am going to take a shower now.”

“Still want to do it alone?”

 

John sighed and gave up trying to pretend to sleep. He sat up and reached for his jeans. It was two in the morning. Couldn’t even go to a bar and get drunk. He pulled a hand through his hair and shoved himself into his jeans. He should at least let Bobby sleep. He sighed again and reached for his boots. 

Maybe he could just get some air. He grabbed his key to the room and let himself out into the night air. He knew he couldn’t let this continue. Two nights with no sleep could get him killed. Worse, it could get others killed.

He shook his head. He found it disturbing that for as often as he tried to send them away, they were all still there. Even Ellen and Jo, who had the least reason to be there. He’d killed Bill. And now, Ellen knew that. 

He leaned on the railing and looked down at the parking lot below them. Plenty of easy marks, doors unlocked…he could take one and leave. If they wouldn’t leave him, he’d leave them. Go after Andrew and his fucking nephews himself.

Except he didn’t know where to start looking. 

His pocket vibrated and he reached for the phone distractedly. He blinked at the name on the caller id, then lifted it. “Sam?”

“Yeah…I…I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“We’re fine.” John said gruffly. “You and Dean?”

Sam was quiet for a minute. “We…we’re good….okay I mean. Got the car.”

“Good.”

“Pastor Jim said something was up…and you didn’t come out to say goodbye…”

“Yeah…we…we’re not at the cabin anymore. Ash…it was Ash.”

“What was Ash?”

“He…it turns out he was Michael Harvelle’s son, Sam. He blew the place up.” John shook his head. “And Andrew…Andrew isn’t…he’s Michael’s brother in law.”

“The other Gorlian?”

“Yeah. So look…don’t…don’t trust anyone, Sam. No one. Just go.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to finish it. You just…you call when…when…” He couldn’t finish the thought, couldn’t say what he was thinking…when Dean wouldn’t be hurt anymore…when he could be in the same room as his boys and not cause them more pain.

“I will. Be careful Dad.”

“You too.”

 

Sam hung up the phone and looked at Dean. They were somewhere in the middle of nowhere Wyoming. He figured they’d stop in Billings and sleep. 

“Dad’s okay, Dean.” Sam said, his voice sounding strained and stressed. 

Dean suddenly looked at him. “Sam.” He looked around him, looked at the car. “Pull over.”

“Dean?” Sam eased them off the road, and before he was even stopped, Dean had his door open. He was out of the car and stumbling to the grass on the side of the road. “Dean?” 

He held up his hand, squatted. He was gulping air and then suddenly vomiting. When he was done he stood slowly, wiping his face with one hand and turning to look at Sam. “What?”

Sam blinked and shook his head. “N-nothing. You…okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Dean moved back to the car. “Must have been something I ate.”

Sam looked at him, squinting in the light from the street lights over the interstate. “Dude, what are you staring at?”

“You…you’ve been catatonic for the last two days, Dean.”

Dean leaned on the roof of the car. “You’re losing it Sammy.”

“No…I…” He licked his lips. “What…what’s the last thing you remember before just now?”

Dean made a pissy face. “Dad asked us to take those books back to Bobby and wait there for him to finish that hunt. We’ve been on the road since.”

Sam swallowed. That was almost three and a half years ago. Their last trip to Bobby’s before…before everything…Before he told Dean about Stanford. Before he left. Before.

Sam shook his head and looked away, up the interstate. “You…we already went to Bobby’s Dean. We’re…you hit your head.”

“Hit my head?” Dean ran a hand over his head and confusion crossed his face. His hair was longer than Dean ever let it get. He bent down to look in the side mirror. “What the fuck?”

“It’s…been a while…you…fuck.” Sam wanted to be sick. Dean had to have repressed it all…found a way to function…”Dean. Get in the car. I’ll try to explain.”

“How long Sam?”

“How long what?”

Dean was pissed now. “How much am I missing here. It’s more than a few days.”

“Settle down.”

“Not until you tell me.”

Sam laid both hands flat on the roof of the car. “Its bad, okay? Just get in the car…and we’ll figure it out.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was a growl.

“Dean, please. I…I just need you to…get in the car.” Sam exhaled slowly and lowered himself back into the driver’s seat, closing the door and waiting. Dean would get in eventually, because…he had to.

It took a minute, but he did. Slowly. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Sam. “You look spooked.” Dean said quietly, then his eyes fell on the cast. “What?” He pointed.

Sam nodded, both hands on the steering wheel to center himself. “Broken.” And fuck if that wasn’t the truth. “We were both pretty…banged up. Mostly healed now. I still have some stitches…”He couldn’t look at Dean. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do.” He swallowed. “We’re going to keep going until we get to Billings. We’ll get a room. We’ll call Dad. Figure out what to do.”

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

Sam shook his head. “Not…not right now. I need to…I need you to trust me right now…okay?”

Dean nodded. “Okay. I trust you Sam. But if you think I’m letting you drive my car with a busted up leg, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Dean—“

“My car.” Dean slapped his arm lightly. “Besides, you look like you’re ready to pass out. Come on. Move your ass.”

Sam couldn’t disagree with that assessment, though he wasn’t sure if it was the twenty four hours or more without real sleep or the shock that was more threatening…He opened his door again and got out, hobbling around the car while Dean slid across the seat.

His brother looked so at home behind the wheel that Sam could almost believe it could be that easy. But as Dean pulled them back onto the road, and Sam huddled into himself in the passenger seat, he knew nothing was ever that easy.

 

Gabe sat in the corner of the booth, with Caleb beside him…protecting him…as John and Ellen joined them. Caleb poured them each coffee from the decanter the waitress had left on the table, and Gabe tried to hide behind his computer. He knew John was staring at him.

Caleb’s hand found Gabe’s knee under the table.

“Well?” John asked, his voice gruff.

Gabe felt light headed as he looked up. “Ash really is better than me.”

John sighed explosively and Ellen quieted him with a hand on his arm. Gabe ducked his head and poked at his keyboard. “I got a ping from the virus…but it was fast and gone and he must have found it.”

“It’s okay, Gabe, it was worth a shot.” Ellen said, looking up as Allen joined them. 

“Hey, you guys see the news this morning?” He pulled a chair from another table and straddled it.

“What?” John asked as Allen reached for the coffee. 

“There was an accident, last night on the interstate. A truck that looked an awful lot like Andrew’s was totaled by a semi.” He poured his coffee and took a sip. “Mighty convenient that there were three men found dead inside it, two of which match the descriptions of Andrew and Ash.”

John growled. “You don’t believe it was them.”

Allen shook his head. “No. I believe they’re making the last of themselves disappear.”

Gabe groaned and closed his laptop. “We’ll never find them now.”

“Does that mean it’s over?” Ellen asked, looking up at John.

John closed his eyes and leaned back against the booth. “I don’t know Ellen. Maybe they believe we’re all dead. Maybe they don’t…”

“So…what do we do now?” Gabe asked, his hands sliding under the table and finding Caleb’s.

“We go home.” Ellen said. “And we wait.”


	48. A Fine Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is all Sam and Dean. This is Sam trying to figure out what to tell Dean, and Dean trying to figure out how to respond...Two broken boys trying desperately to make each other okay.

Sam sat up suddenly, the room spinning around him. Dean snored on the bed next to him. He swallowed. He had a vague memory of getting to the motel just inside the city limits. Dean hadn’t pressed for details and Sam had fallen into bed, curled into a ball and gone to sleep.

He wasn’t sure now what to do. Had no idea if Dean would be…Dean when he woke up…or if he’d go back to the catatonic state of before…or…something else entirely.

It was nearly 11 in the morning. Sam scrubbed a hand over his face and fought his way clear of the sheets. He needed a shower, but since they didn’t have anything to cover the cast, he wasn’t getting one.

He took a deep breath. That was one thing he could do. Find a clinic or something that would look at the leg. Maybe get them to take the damn cast off and give him something more…mobile. He grabbed his phone and rummaged in the nightstand for a local phone directory. Then he stumbled and limped to the bathroom to give Dean some quiet.

Ten minutes later, Joseph Becker had an appointment at a local clinic for 2pm. Sam stuffed the Becker credit card back into his wallet and set the phone book on the floor. He stared at his phone. He should call his father.

Dean didn’t remember any of it. Who’s to say it wasn’t better that way? Sam could certainly understand it. But…he knew his brother. He knew he wouldn’t let it slide. Not when he found out he had lost more than three years. No…he’d pick at it and worry and then when he did find out. When he remembered…or was told…or ….Sam shook his head and pressed the button to dial his father’s number.

He took a deep breath as the phone rang. His father’s voice was gruff when he answered. “Sam?”

“Hey…Dad…” But he couldn’t actually say it.

“Sam, is something wrong?”

“Yeah… Dad. It’s Dean…he’s…something’s happened.”

“Sam?”

He cleared his throat. “Last night…he…Holy Fuck! He’s…forgotten…everything. He’s…he thinks its three years ago…before Stanford.”

“Amnesia?”

Sam shrugged and shook his head. “I…don’t know…it…he just…sat up and looked at me and was…normal.”

“Normal? Losing three years doesn’t strike me as normal.”

“No…I know…I just…I don’t know what to do, Dad. I don’t know what to say to him.”

John sighed through the phone. “I don’t know what to tell you Sam. You can’t…you can’t tell him. I can’t even imagine what that would do to him.”

“I know…but he’s going to ask. When he realizes how much time…he’s gonna want to know.”

“Okay…maybe…tell him he was kidnapped and…fuck.” He heard his father fumble the phone and mumble to someone he was with. “Sam. Tell him he got beat up. Tell him…just don’t tell him about the rest. He’s gonna have to come to that on his own.”

“Yeah…I can do that I think.”

“You going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. I’m…I’ll call you later.”

Sam hung up the phone and hung his head. “Fuck.” He stood up and ran cold water to splash over his face. As he looked up and into the mirror, he realized he hadn’t shaved again in a few days. He was scruffy and it aged him. All it was going to take for Dean to realize how much time had passed was one good look at him. 

“Fuck.”

There was a knock on the door and Sam jumped.

“Hey, Sam…you in there?”

“Yeah. Dean. Just a minute, okay?”

“Come on man, I gotta pee.”

Sam took a deep breath and opened the door. “All yours dude.”

“Hey.” Dean grabbed his arm as he hobbled past. “You okay?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You’re not fine. I know when you’re fine. This isn’t it.”

“Pee Dean. We’ll talk when you’re done.”

Sam hobbled away, over to the window. He could do this. It was better. It was easier. All his mistakes erased. Dean…really Dean. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the window and closed his eyes. He could relax…maybe…he could have a day or two…just some time for it to be like it was…like it was before.

He stiffened when Dean’s arms slid around his waist, froze as they slid below his waist band and circled his cock. His lips pressed to Sam’s neck and Sam had to take a shaky breath. “Dean…please.” Maybe not like before.

“Want you so bad Sammy…feels like it’s been forever.” Dean’s groin connected with Sam’s ass and Sam bolted to the side, away and turning, holding up his hands. 

“Dean. Just…wait, okay?”

Dean cocked his head to the side. “What’s wrong? You’re always the one who wakes up horny…especially when Dad isn’t around.” His smile was devilish. “And it isn’t like you’re getting away from me with a gimp leg.”

Sam paled and turned away. “We…should talk…first.”

“What are you? A girl, Sammy? You know I don’t want to talk.” Dean closed in again, pulling Sam closer and bringing his hand up behind Sam’s head to pull him in to kiss. “Just want to touch you,” he whispered.

Sam shivered as Dean’s hands closed around his wrists, pushing his arms behind him while he kissed him again, his lips and teeth wandering from Sam’s lips to his chin and down his jaw line. Sam pulled on his hands, but Dean held him firm. “Please…Dean.” Sam couldn’t breath. “Please…let go.” 

“Want to kiss you all over Sammy…love the way you taste.”

“Dean.” There was panic leaking into this tone and Dean pulled back to look at him. “Please.” He pulled again and this time Dean did let go.

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. I know. Just…just give me a minute.” Sam was gasping for air. He tried to move away, but Dean’s hand was on his cheek and his face was filled with concern…and…”Fuck.”

He took a deep breath and tried to meet Dean’s eyes. “I’m okay. Just…you don’t remember a lot. And…I can’t…not right now.” He softened his words with a kiss on Dean’s cheek before he sat on the bed. “Sit down, Dean.”

Dean’s hands were on his hips as he stared down at Sam. “What’s going on Sammy?” 

“Sit down. Okay?”

Dean paced around for a minute, one hand covering his mouth, then wiping it before he sat on the end of the bed and stared at Sam.

“I don’t want you to freak out on me. But you…It’s been three years, Dean. I—you…don’t remember…but…”

“Wait. Three years? You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

Sam couldn’t look at him. “No. I’m not.”

“What happened?”

“What’s the very last thing you remember Dean?”

Dean scratched at his head and stood up, pacing around the bed. “We went to Bobby’s. You were horny as hell and we went out to the car. When we came out, Robert was there…telling us dinner was ready.”

Sam felt his whole body tense. He’d thought he wanted this, to rewind…make it like it never happened. He hadn’t told Dean about Stanford until the next day. Hadn’t told him about Robert in the living room. But this was worse. This was fucked up and he didn’t know if they’d survive this. 

“You’re telling me that was three years ago, Sam?”

“Actually, it’s almost closer to four. I’d be graduating this year.”

Dean stopped his pacing and looked at Sam. “Graduating?”

Sam nodded. “I left. At the end of that summer…two weeks later. I went to Stanford…got a full scholarship.”

“You…left?” Dean’s hands were back on his hips and he was shaking his head. “This isn’t real. Why? Why?” He turned to look at Sam.

He couldn’t stop the tears as he tried to figure out what Dean was asking. “Why what?”

“Fuck. I don’t know Sam. Why did you leave? Why don’t I remember? Hell, what don’t I remember? Why did you get all panicky when I touched you? Why are you looking at me like I’m gonna break into a thousand pieces? Why?”

Sam held up his hands, but they were shaking, so he put them down again. “I need you to calm down and trust me.”

“You keep saying that Sam…and for god’s sake I trust you with my life, but none of this is making sense! None of it.” 

“I think…” Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I think it’s post traumatic stress Dean. I think…your brain just….shut down to protect you.” And fuck, that was the wrong thing to say, because Dean was livid now.

“Protect me? Protect me from what Sam?” His face was red as he stalked toward Sam and he couldn’t help but cringe away. Dean must have seen something in his face, because he suddenly looked scared. “Christ! Did I do something to you?”

“Me?” Sam couldn’t breath. He shook his head, but couldn’t escape the panic in his chest. “No Dean. You didn’t…didn’t do anything to me.”

“Then why are you like that? Like you’re afraid of me?”

“Not you. God, not you.” Sam forced a breath out and looked up at him. “You…you went missing. And, you…were hurt. And…I found you.”

“You’re not telling me everything.” 

Sam shook his head. “Can’t. Dad says you need to remember on your own.”

“Dad? Where the fuck is Dad?” 

Sam felt some of the panic flush away. Dean had backed off and Dad was safer…safer than the rest. “I…I’m not sure exactly. Hunting.”

“Hunting what?”

Maybe Dad wasn’t any safer a conversation than the rest after all. “The last of the men who hurt you.”

Dean crossed his arms and stared at Sam. “Okay. What happened to you?”

“What?”

“Dude, you were terrified. Of me. Of me touching you.”

Sam shook his head and started to get up. “No. I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that too. Fuck Sam, I know you better than that. You say I didn’t do anything to you. Obviously, someone did.”

“It’s…nothing. Dean. Nothing important. Can we drop it?”

“No.” Dean stalked toward him, practically vibrating with anger. “If it’s nothing, let me kiss you.”

Sam turned away. Maybe he could disguise it. “Dean, it’s been three years.”

Dean stopped. “Are you saying…is there someone else?”

Sam couldn’t believe where this conversation was going. “What? Of course there isn’t anyone else. I mean…there was…but…she was never…fuck. Dean. Can’t we just…stop? Please?” His voice fell to a whisper and his eyes closed.

Dean’s hands were on him again. Gentle at first, down his back, his lips pressed to Sam’s shoulder. “Tell me Sammy. It’s making me crazy. I can’t…I need you, baby…Love you so much…” 

Sam shuddered before he could control it. Dean couldn’t know those words had come from Robert in the midst of his ordeal…couldn’t know about his ordeal…but he saw it and his face got hard and angry again. “Tell me Sam. I swear I’ll beat it out of you—“ He stopped as the last of the color drained from Sam’s face. 

Dean bit his lip and grabbed Sam’s arms, turning him to face him. “Fuck Sam.”

Sam pulled free and stumbled away, toward the door. “Stop…fuck…stop. Okay…okay…I was…” He had to say or Dean would keep pressing. “Raped. Dean.” There. Dean froze, Sam looked away. It was there. “I was…I was raped. And…I love you…and I want to be with you…more than anything. But I…can’t. Okay?”

He fell against the door, turning his face to it and wiping at the tears that just weren’t stopping now. Dean sank onto the bed. “Did…this…did it…was it because of me?” Dean’s voice was small…weak. 

Sam took a deep shuddering breath and shook his head. “No…no. It was…something else.”

“After you left us?”

Sam nodded miserably and crossed his arms, trying to stop the tears and face Dean. “I’m…okay, Dean. I’m dealing…but…I can’t…it’s too much.”

It was silent in the room for a long time and when Dean spoke again something in his voice had changed completely. “Did we get him?”

The question startled Sam and he opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He closed it again and nodded. “Yeah, Dean. We did.”

Dean nodded and sniffed a little, wiping his face and standing. “Okay. Here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re gonna go eat. And I’m gonna get a haircut. And we’re gonna just…not worry about what I don’t remember for today.”

Sam nodded encouragingly. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He wiped his face too and took a deep breath. “I made an appointment at a clinic to have my leg looked at. I mean, Doc Brays is great…but this cast sucks.”

Dean frowned at him. “Doc Brays did that?” Sam nodded and Dean bit his lip. “Is it…was it part of…what happened to you?”

Sam wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he just nodded. Dean came closer slowly, hands on his hips, eyes on the floor. “Tell me I cut the bastard in two Sam.”

Sam reached out to hug him. “Yeah, Dean…you did.”

 

“Well, Mr. Becker. Whoever set this leg for you did a very good job. You say this was a field setting?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah…I was out hunting. My father’s veterinary friend set it for me.”

The doctor was an older man, older than his father, with gentle hands and a solid smile. “Well, the x-rays show that it’s healing nicely.” The doctor ran his hands down Sam’s pale leg, now free of its plaster prison. Beside him, Dean shifted uncomfortably. 

Sam had tried to talk him into going down the block for a hair cut, but Dean wasn’t going to be pried away that easily…not after the whole confession in the motel room. 

“We’ll want to re-splint it, of course, but with something a little easier for you to get on and off…so you can bathe. You should stay on the crutches, at least for the time being. This kind of break takes a long time to heal, Mr. Becker.”

“Yeah, that’s what Doc said. I should have had it looked at before now…but I don’t get into town much.”

The gray haired man nodded and picked up his prescription pad. “I’m going to give you a mild pain reliever. You should be past the worst of the pain at this point in the healing process, but sometimes when it throbs it can be hard to sleep. My PA will be in shortly to fit you with a splint.”

He handed Sam a piece of paper from the prescription pad. “You wear the splint for everything but the shower, okay, Son? At least four weeks. And see someone to make sure it’s healing before you stop wearing it.”

“Yes sir.” Sam said, looking up at Dean who took the prescription from him and tucked it into a pocket.

“I’ll make sure he takes good care of it, Doctor.”

He smiled and excused himself from the room. Sam heaved a sigh of relief. People were so hard some days. He leaned against Dean and closed his eyes. It felt good to have the cast off…his leg felt light. 

“So…where to after this, Sammy?” Dean asked, his hand rubbing light circles on Sam’s back. He froze as he felt the stitches in the cut over Sam’s right shoulder blade. “Sam?”

Sam leaned forward. “I told you…I still have a few stitches.” 

Dean’s hands were pulling up Sam’s shirt and Sam tried to pull away. “Sit still.” Dean growled, lifting Sam’s shirt to see under it. “Damn it Sam.”

“Let it be Dean.”

“No. Some of these need to come out.”

“You can do it later.”

Dean dropped the shirt and moved around to the front of Sam. “Is there anything else I should know? Anything else you want to tell me? Because I gotta tell you Sam, it’s fucking hard to take care of you when I don’t know what needs to be taken care of.”

“Maybe I don’t need you to take care of me anymore Dean.” Sam said, raising his voice without meaning to. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s my turn to take care of you.”

Dean shook his head. “No. No. Just stop. Give me the phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone. I apparently don’t have mine.”

“Who are you going to call?”

“Dad.”

“Why?”

Dean shook his head. “What do you mean why? He should be here…not out there somewhere. He should be here talking some sense into you.”

“You don’t need to call Dad.”

“Fuck you.” Dean paced to the door and back and held out his hand. “Give me the fucking phone same, or I swear to god, I’m walking out that door and I’m not coming back.”

Sam paled and his fingers shook as he reached into his pocket for the phone. Dean looked at it, then up at Sam. “I’ll be out front.”

 

Dean stalked through the doctor’s office, out through the front door, then he flipped open the phone. His father’s voice sounded over the phone. “Sam?”

“No, Dad, it’s Dean.”

“Dean.” There was an odd hesitation in his voice that made Dean frown.

“Yeah. Where are you?”

“On my way to Bobby’s.”

“Look…I know things are…hell I don’t know what things are. Sam’s telling me I’ve lost three years, and he’s…he’s all fucked up Dad.”

“What has Sam told you, Dean?”

“Not much. Not enough. He said somebody hurt me and that I can’t remember because of some traumatic stress or something…but it’s not me I’m worried about Dad. Sam…he’s falling apart.”

“What do you mean, Dean?”

Dean kicked at the ground, then stared at the shoes on his feet. They weren’t his boots at all. “He’s…scared…and broken. How did he get beat up like this Dad? I mean the stitches and the broken leg? What am I missing?”

“Sam will be fine, Dean. Just trust him, and let him…do what he wants, okay?”

“Damn it Dad, I’m not a child.”

“No, I know.”

“Who did this to Sam? And why aren’t you here?”

“You boys need to be alone…away from the rest…just trust your brother Dean.”

Dean sighed and stared at the phone. “Yeah, okay Dad. But we’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah, Dean. As soon as I can, okay?”

“Yeah, fine.”

 

“So, I figure if we hit the road by 8 we can get into Washington by 7 tonight.” Sam said as Dean examined his newly shortened hair in the bathroom.

“Washington?”

“Yeah…I figured we’d get a nice cozy cabin and do some R&R.”

Dean emerged from the bathroom as Sam settled on to the bed. “R&R…in Washington.”

Sam chuckled and nodded. “A cabin…someplace quiet, where no one knows us, and no one will bother us.”

“In the woods, where it’s cold.”

Sam patted the bed and Dean turned off the light. “Can we not think or talk? Can we just…sleep? I feel like I haven’t slept in a month.”

Dean crawled in under the blankets. “You’ll tell me if I make you uncomfortable?”

Sam nodded, pulling Dean closer. “We’ve shared a bed since….well, since. Just…we have to go slow…okay?”

“So…you want me to snuggle.” Dean said.

“No…I know you don’t snuggle.” Sam responded. 

“Damn straight.” Dean’s hand belayed his words though, guiding Sam’s head to lie on his shoulder. “Though…in the interest of helping you, I could be persuaded.”

Sam pressed his lips to Dean’s collarbone, then lifted up to kiss his lips. “I love you Dean,” he whispered. 

“Course you do.” Dean whispered back. 

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed the tears. There’d been enough of that for one day. His brother needed him…and no matter how tired he was, he could, would be there for him.


	49. Anguish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is all Sam and Dean. This...is hard. It took all day to write. Dean struggles with the blank spots in his memory, and with the holes in what Sam is telling him, pushing Sam closer to the edge...and sliding closer to it himself.

Dean was up early, showered and gone for coffee before Sam even started to rouse. He forced his mind to stay focused on the moment, because to contemplate the rest was too much. Three years. How does a person’s mind just up and decide to forget three years? Nearly four?

And Sammy, leaving…going away to school. Sammy with some girl. Sammy…raped.

Dean tossed down the money he’d taken from Sam’s wallet and snagged the two coffees, then headed back to the room. He couldn’t think about that. About the broken leg and the stitches and the fading bruises he’d seen on his brother’s back. It was something more than Sam was telling him.

He sighed and crossed the street to the motel. Sam was seriously spooked, and his father…had sounded strange. He hadn’t really slept much. He’d laid in bed and held on to Sam and tried to remember.

There was nothing. Just this wall. They went in and had dinner with Bobby and Robert. Robert was his usual asshole self. Brooding and irritable. Dean remembered he caught him staring at Sam a couple of times. Then, Dean and Sam had gone to bed. The next thing he remembered was feeling sick to his stomach and telling Sam to pull over.

Dean shook his head and stacked the coffee cups while he fished the room key out of his pocket. Sam was sitting up in bed, looking a little panicked. Dean held up the coffee. “Figured we could both use it.”

Sam nodded, but his expression was still kinda scared. Dean handed him his cup and went to sit at the table. “I’m…I’m thinking you should let me handle those stitches before we get going.” Dean said, though he had meant to say something else completely.

“Yeah…okay. Med kit’s in the bag.” Sam wasn’t looking at him and damn but it felt like his brother was trying to handle him.

“Come sit here, I’ll get it.”

The stitches could probably wait…but Dean had an ulterior motive. He wanted to see just how much damage there was. Sam slipped out of bed, adjusting his worn out boxers and limping to the chair. “Doc said to keep using the crutches.” Dean said softly as he went to get the med kit.

“I know.” Sam moved to straddle the chair and take his shirt off. 

Dean sighed and unrolled the med kit. “Whose kit is this? There’s some serious shit in here.”

Sam glanced aside at it. “Dad’s…I think. Maybe Bobby’s. I figured we might need it…so I grabbed it when we…” He shook his head and sighed. “When we left.”

“Left where, Sam? Bobby’s?”

Sam shook his head and Dean rested a hand on the expanse of bare skin. “Christ.” Dean murmured. Sam’s back was a mess, and it was easy to tell it was worse not long before. Dean reached behind him and opened the curtain to let in the morning sun. “Fuck, Sam.”

Sam hung his head, but didn’t respond as Dean moved back to examine him. The bruising was fading, more greens and yellows than purple or blue…or black…though there were still black spots. “What did he do to you?” Dean whispered, closing his eyes.

“Dean…please.” Sam’s voice was throaty and thick.

“I’m sorry Sam. God, I’m so sorry.”

His fingers brushed over the stitched up cuts. “This isn’t Dad’s work.”

Sam’s head came up. “No? I…was…unconscious.”

Dean’s hand tightened into a fist and he shook his head. He grabbed the second chair and brought it around, straddling it with his face inches from Sam’s. “Damn it Sam. Just tell me. Just…” He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. “I look at your back and you tell me…you tell me some guy did this to you…but you’re fine…but every time I look at you I see something more…and this…this isn’t fine Sam.”

“Please…Dean….Let’s just go….we can…can talk after…when…when we’re alone.”

“Sam, we’re alone now.” Dean couldn’t understand. Sam wanted to run. Sam was running away…away from Dad. Dean cleared his throat, his hands lifting to Sam’s face, turning it so he could look in Sam’s eyes. “What are we running from?”

Sam didn’t answer, just tried to look away. “Sam…man, you gotta help me here. I’m drifting. I’ve got no…I’ve got nothing. I can’t do this without you giving me something.” 

“Dean…you don’t need…just…it’s enough to know it was really, really bad….and you…you saved me.”

“No. It isn’t enough, Sam.” Dean stood up and paced away. “First you tell me I disappeared, and you found me. Then you tell me you were raped and I saved you.” Sam flinched as Dean’s voice raised. He was starting to get really angry with his little brother and genuinely scared for him. “And those marks on your back…those aren’t from some minor assault. Someone cut you. Those are cuts that are made to bleed Sam. To bleed and hurt. It’s torture. And if you don’t start talking…I’ll…I’ll knock you out and drag you back to Dad and make him tell me.”

Sam stood and came toward him, his hands out in a placating gesture. “Dean…shh…just…calm down.”

“Fuck you.”

“Okay. I’ll tell you. But…not here. Not right now. Tonight. Let today be…” He shook his head. “Please, just give me today?”

Dean wanted to shake him, to demand that he tell him everything right that minute, but Sam looked like he was ready to start crying and Dean wasn’t sure he could handle that. Slowly he nodded. “Sit down. Let me get those stitches out. Then we’ll head out.”

 

The first few hours on the road were quiet. Sam huddled into himself and tried to sit still. His back itched now that the stitches were out. He felt Dean’s eyes on him from time to time and kept his gaze pointed out the side window. The question in his eyes…the pity…the pain…it was more than Sam knew how to deal with.

“Hungry?” Dean asked as they neared Missoula.

Sam breathed in and nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

“We’ll stop on the other side of Missoula.”

“Good.”

They were quiet again for a long time, then Dean looked at him and Sam knew he was going to ask something. “Is Dad okay?”

Not what he was expecting. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

Dean shook his head. “He sounded…strange.”

“Strange?”

Dean nodded, scowling out the window. “Yeah. I was telling him I was worried about you and that you’re…well…he was more concerned about what I knew. And…he told me to do what you wanted me to do. And that’s not like him.”

Sam nodded and stared out the window. “Dad’s worried about you. Told me to take you away, told me to take care of you.”

“See. That’s just it. From what I can see here Sam, you’re the one who needs taking care of. I’m fine.”

“I know it seems that way Dean.” Sam picked at the frayed knee of his jeans. 

Dean was frowning, his lips a fine, thin line of anger. “And we’re back to the wall.”

They moved around slower moving traffic and as the city started to thin out around them, Dean pulled them off the freeway and into a diner. He was out the door and into the building before Sam even got to his feet.

When Sam got into the diner Dean was already seated. “It must be incredibly frustrating.” Sam said as he sat down. “I can’t begin to know.”

“From where I’m sitting Sam, you know a hell of a lot more than I do.”

After they ordered Sam sat back to take a good hard look at Dean. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was still pale. “Did you sleep?”

Dean shook his head and Sam sighed. “Maybe I should drive when we leave.”

Dean’s only response was a dirty look. They were quiet then until the waitress came with their lunch. Half way through Sam felt sick and excused himself. He hobbled on the crutches into the bathroom and slammed into a stall, retching before he got all the way down. 

He flushed and dug out his phone…but he only got his father’s voice mail. “Fuck. I can’t do this Dad. I can’t lie to him…and I can’t tell him…and fuck…when he remembers…” His voice trailed off and then another thought occurred to him. “What if…what if he never does remember?” He hung up the phone and got to his feet.

He was shaking as he moved out to the sink to wash up. 

“Sam?”

Sam bent forward to splash water over his face to hide the tears as Dean came in the room. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

He looked up. “Stomach…didn’t like the food…or something.”

“Yeah, or something. You never could keep a secret without losing your lunch Sam. You done?”

Sam nodded. 

“Good. Let’s hit it.”

 

They were only an hour or so from Spokane when Dean reached from the steering wheel to grab Sam’s left hand, holding it up to look at. “What’s that?”

“It’s a ring.”

“Very funny.” Dean glanced back at the road, and angled Sam’s hand to catch the headlights of the car behind them. “You get married in my missing three years, Sammy?”

Sam pulled the hand back and snorted. “Last I knew marrying your brother is illegal. You gave it to me Dean.”

“I did? Why would I do something so…”

“Girly?” Sam asked. He chuckled. “Got down on one knee and everything Dean. It was very sweet.”

“I did not. You’re making that up.”

“Yeah, okay…not on one knee…but still you gave it to me…told me how much you loved me…it was all very sweet.”

“Hmmmph. Where’d I get it? It looks old.”

“You told me Dad gave it to you.”

Dean nodded. “Mom gave it to him.” He frowned, then looked at Sam. “I don’t know where that came from.”

Sam looked panicked for a moment, then looked away. “Must be a memory. That’s a good sign.”

“Then why does it scare you?” 

Sam reached for his hand and held it. “Tonight Dean. Okay?”

Dean nodded again and lifted Sam’s hand to kiss. Sam smiled at him and for the moment Dean could pretend everything was okay.

 

“Hey, I talked to the owner and he’s got a cousin with cabins an hour or so from here. He’s got one that’s open. It’s small, but we don’t need much, right?” 

Dean looked up from the bag of take out he was spreading on the table. 

“What’s all this?”

Dean’s smile was sheepish. “Well…if we’re gonna spend the next however long out in the woods, I figured we deserved one good meal.” 

Sam hobbled over. “These are all my favorites. What did you do, go to every restaurant in town?”

“Just a few. Stop fussing and sit.”

“What? No candlelight?”

“Don’t make me break your crutches Sammy.”

Sam chuckled and sat down. “So anyway, I told him we’d take it.”

“Okay. An hour you said?”

“Give or take. He says it’s pretty cold up there, snow on the ground still. We should stop, pick up some cold weather clothes. There’s a thrift store a few blocks down.”

Dean loaded up Sam’s paper plate and set it front of him, then handed him a seven up from the motel soda machine. “I hope your stomach’s better.”

“Yeah it is.”

“Good.”

Dean plopped into his chair and cracked open a beer. “Beer?” Sam asked, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips. He couldn’t help but remember Dean’s last experience with a beer.

“Yeah. Problem?”

Sam chuckled and shook his head. “No…eat.”

“You eat.”

Sam could feel Dean’s eyes watching him as he ate, knew he was waiting…and any minute he was going to make Sam keep his promise. He decided that maybe it was better to do this at his own pace. He wiped his mouth, pushed his plate away. 

He’d thought about it all day. Dean would know if he was lying or holding back. The best he could hope for was to keep the whole thing focused on himself. “Okay. Where do you want me to start?”

Dean looked at him for a long minute. “I’d like to say with the part where you left…but I figure maybe you’re right and I need to remember stuff myself. So why don’t we start with what happened to you.”

Sam nodded and licked his lips. “Okay. I told you I was raped. That’s…part of the truth.” He closed his eyes, because he couldn’t say these things if he had to watch Dean react to it. “I—Robert…Bobby’s son. He…kidnapped me from Bobby’s place. Took me someplace. D-drugged me.”

He heard Dean moving, shifting. Sam turned so he was facing away from Dean. “He…wasn’t alone. There were…others…and…they…hurt me. Beat me. They…t-took turns.”

Sam bit his tongue to hold back the wave of fear and memory. He just wanted to get through this. “He said he loved me…wanted me to be with him…He…was nice…gentle…not like the others…it made me feel filthy, Dean….when he…he kissed me…”

Dean’s voice was ice. “How many?”

Sam shook, wiping away the tears. “I don’t know….I was…drugged and in the dark and…it was….I couldn’t keep track.”

“How long?”

Sam hated the way his voice trembled. He wrapped his arms around himself and leaned forward. “F-four d-days.” Sam sniffed, pushed the memory away…”And then…you came for me…you…saved me.”

Dean’s hand was on his head. Sam wanted to just lean into his touch. Dean’s lips pressed against the crown of his head, then Dean was sliding to his knees in front of Sam. 

“God Sam…I…Come here.” Dean’s arms folded around him and Sam collapsed into his arms, onto his knees, and as Dean rocked him, Sam buried his face in his brother’s neck and let the tears come. “I’m so sorry Sam.”

Dean’s kisses were tender, over his forehead and eyes, kissing away the tears, moving slowly down to Sam’s lips. At first it didn’t register, but as he pulled away, Sam’s eyes opened. He moved to follow Dean’s lips, but Dean shook his head. “It’s okay Dean.”

“No…you’re hurting and vulnerable and I’m not going to take advantage of that.”

Sam closed his eyes. It was so comforting to relax and let Dean be his big brother…to let go of everything else…to forget…”Let’s get that splint off and get you cleaned up.” Dean said softly, pushing Sam until he realized what Dean wanted and shifted back into the chair.

Dean handed him his crutches and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll start a bath.”

“Shower.” Sam countered. “Tub’s too small.”

“Tub’s fine Sam, you’re just huge.”

Sam followed slowly, taking his time. Steam had already started to fill the room when he got there, and Dean nodded before reaching to help Sam undress. “This okay?”

Sam nodded, lifting his arm to get the t-shirt off. “We don’t seem to have much in the way of clean clothes.” Dean said as he set Sam’s crutches aside and Sam started on his pants. “We’ll have to do laundry tomorrow.”

“I’m gonna need to just buy new pants.” Sam countered, holding a hand to Dean’s shoulder as balanced himself to drop his jeans and boxers.

Dean’s sharp intake of breath made Sam freeze. His fingers traced the “J” carved on Sam’s chest. Sam covered it and shook his head. “It…he…you cut his dick off.”

Dean’s eyes met his, a dark fury burning in them, his jaw tightly clenched. “Good. I hope I choked him with it.”

 

Dean woke in a cold sweat just before daylight, chasing some elusive dream out of the night, knowing he was just missing something. He sat up, scrubbing at his sweaty face. He’d dreamed of Sam, tied up and broken. Of words Sam whispered…words that made him feel desperate and beaten…but he couldn’t find them.

He sighed. He felt sticky from the sweat. Sam would want to get started fairly early, so Dean decided that he should shower now, gather their clothes and find a laundry.

In the bathroom, he stared at himself for a minute, at the dark sunken eyes, the white face…stubble that really needed shaving. Maybe a few weeks of down time was what they needed. Maybe some quiet days with no research to do, no hunting…maybe Sam could start to move past this…although, how anyone could move past an experience like that, he wasn’t sure.

“Where the fuck were you, Winchester?” He asked his reflection in the mirror. Not that he expected an answer. He peeled off his shirt and started the shower. The pressure wasn’t much, but the heat was good and as he turned back, the mirror was already starting to steam up. His eyes caught on something and his hand shook a little as he wiped away the steam. 

One finger of his other hand traced over the scar tissue. It was healed, older than Sam’s…but it was the same.

The mirror steamed over again and Dean shook his head. He was imagining things. He finished stripping and stepped into the shower, determine to put it out of his mind. But as he washed, his fingers kept returning to the spot, tracing over the “J”. 

By the time he’d turned off the water and stepped out, his mind was churning over the possibilities. Sam said their father was hunting the men who’d hurt him. Men. Not demons. Not monsters. Men.

Men who use knives and weapons to inflict pain. Men who do the unspeakable things like what had happened to Sam. Men who made him disappear. Men who marked his skin. Men who marked Sam’s skin.

He sank to a seat on the toilet. No. No way. He’d remember. That…that was something he’d remember. 

Right? Dean shook his head. Closed his eyes. He had to remember something. Anything. Somebody doesn’t carve a letter into your chest and you just forget. 

He growled in frustration and bolted from the bathroom. Sam sat up as he burst into the room. “Dean?”

“What aren’t you telling me, Sam?” Dean stalked to the bed, pointing to his chest. “What the fuck don’t I remember?”

“Dean, calm down.”

“Stop telling me to calm down Sam. This…who did this?”

“Dean—“

“Who?”

Sam lowered his eyes. “His name was James. I—I’m not even sure if that was his first name or…last.”

“And why?”

“Dean…I can’t.”

“You better. I swear Sam…its there…its like…behind a door and I can’t pick the damn lock.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Dean…obviously it was too much, and your mind blocked it out. Somewhere inside you know you need time. Give yourself the time, okay?”

“Are you lying to me, Sam?”

Sam swallowed, but his eyes rose to meet Dean’s. “No…Dean.”

“Fuck!” Dean ripped the blankets from the bed, throwing them to the ground. “Fuck! I hate this.”

Sam nodded and got up slowly. “I know. But if we’re patient…”

“Patience is not one of my virtues, Sam.” Dean put his hands on his hips and stalked to the door. It didn’t help to be angry with Sam…especially not when he looked so scared. “Well…I have so few.” Dean shook his head, knowing the joke would fall flat. 

“But you’re pretty.” Sam said, his own delivery even flatter.

“Get dressed. Let’s…go find this cabin of yours.”

 

It didn’t take long to find. They stopped at the thrift shop and found coats and even a pair of boots for Dean, some clothes. As they left, Dean tossed Sam the keys. “I’m not feeling too good. You drive.”

Sam was concerned, but didn’t say anything, just put the bags in the trunk and got them back on the road.

The cabin was barely that. Up a one lane gravel drive, three miles or more off anything that could be considered a road, it was one room built from logs and mortar, with a wood floor that was laid over a dirt foundation. It had one window and a pot belly stove, with a small amount of wood beside it.

Dean was quiet, withdrawn. Sam carried in their groceries and Dean the rest of their things. Neither of them spoke as they set about securing themselves and starting a fire in the stove.

Dean laid down on the double bed as Sam fed wood into the stove. Sam came to sit next to him. “You okay?”

He shook his head. “I…don’t know, Sammy.”

“Are you remembering things?”

Dean’s face was twisted up, like he was in pain. “Flashes…faces…nothing makes sense.”

Sam kissed him. “Don’t try so hard, Dean. When you’re ready, it will come.”

“Promise?” 

Sam smiled. “We need to bring in more wood. There’s a pile outside.”

“You should let me…gimp leg and all.”

Sam shook his head. “No. You lay here. I can do this on one crutch.”

He slipped on his coat and went out to the pile. There were patches of snow on the ground and a cold rain just started falling. It would take a few trips, but he could get enough wood up to the door to keep them warm through the night. Dean could help with more the next day.

Three armfuls later, Sam pushed the door open, propping it with a log while he dragged the wood inside. 

He finished and let the door closed, turning to find Dean sitting on the edge of the bed. “Dean?” Sam’s breath caught in his throat.

Dean’s eyes rested on the gun in his hand. “You lied to me.”

Sam shook his head. “No…no…Dean.” He remembered. Sam knew somehow.

Dean’s voice was low, and something in his tone scared Sam. He took a few steps closer and stopped. “I was there first. I was there…and they…I was thinking this morning…how does someone deal with…that….how does someone ever…go back…?” He sort of smiled, the gun rising. He cradled it in both hands. “But you don’t…do you Sammy? There’s no going back…”

“Dean…come on…you’re scaring me. Give me the gun.”

He started to hold it out, then snapped it up, pointing it and Sam and Sam recoiled. “Why lie Sam? Tell me I’m okay? Tell me it wasn’t my fault? I fucking gave you to him. I washed their come off of you and put you on your knees for him…and told you how to be a good fucking slave!”

The gun moved under Dean’s chin. Sam held up both hands. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He inched forward. “No…you don’t get to Dean. Not after all of this. No.” 

Sam limped forward, crutch forgotten. Slowly. He could see Dean was crying now. “See…Dean…if you…if you wanna go…you have to take me too.” His throat was tight as he slid to his knees, his leg screaming in pain as he put weight on it to crawl closer. 

Dean’s chest was heaving, his finger tight against the trigger. “Me first this time.” Sam whispered, both hands closing around Dean’s. Ever so slowly, he pulled the gun down, pushing the barrel against his chest. “Cause I told you I can’t do this without you. If you’re going to do it…do me first. Make the pain stop, Dean.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was a growl…half warning, half anguish. “My beautiful Sam.” He tried to pull the gun back, but Sam held on. 

“You’re not leaving without me, Dean. You die, I die. I lived without you for three and a half years. I won’t do it again. I can’t.”

Sam lifted tear filled eyes to his brother’s. There was anguish there…unlike any Sam had ever seen. He wasn’t sure Dean wouldn’t pull the trigger. He wasn’t sure he didn’t want him to. Maybe in the end, it was the only way to fix what was wrong.


	50. Coming Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. Dean realizes what Sam needs, Sam comes clean with Dean. Gabe and Caleb grab a moment. Final chapter. For now, for this arc.

Dean hands were hot around the gun, under Sam’s. He wasn’t sure how long they sat there without moving. His heart thundered with self-loathing…the image of himself on his knees…the sound of his voice as he recited rules…the way Sam looked at him…trusted him…and he had destroyed that trust…The gun was pressed tight against Sam, and Sam leaned in to it, closing his eyes. 

He wanted it. Sam wanted it…in a different way than Dean did. An end. Peace. Dean could taste the salt of Sam’s tears mixed with his own, smell the tang of gun oil. 

Random memories recoiled through him. Beyond giving Sam to… _him_ …and Dean couldn’t see him, wouldn’t know his face…but he could feel his fingers on his neck, could hear his voice slithering around his ears. 

_Thank you, slave, for your honest report. I am pleased with your performance._

There had been a collar. A reward for giving up his brother to a monster…for letting his brother be raped and beaten…broken and offered up to be made a slave.

Sam’s breathing was sharp against his ears. Sam really wanted it…had thought about it…this wasn’t some spur of the moment anguish…not a response to memories of betraying his brother…out of context and incomplete…this was his baby brother, ready to end it…ready for Dean to end it for them both. 

Dean quivered…the adrenaline fading…the feeling of betrayal and disgust disintegrating under the fear. Because he **felt** like he wanted to die…but Sammy actually did want it…and that cut him worse than any memory of fucking his brother while he cried into his pillow.

“Can’t Sam….can’t…” Dean pulled on the gun, pulled back, but Sam didn’t let go. Dean shook his head “Sam…please…” 

“Dean…” Sam’s eyes opened, he licked his lips. Dean looked down at him, kneeling between his legs. Shattered. It was the only word. Sam was a shell…a body that held the shattered pieces of who he was before. “Won’t live without you.” Sam whispered.

The weight of the gun was in Sam’s hands now, Dean’s hands falling away, falling as his forehead pressed to Sam’s. “No Sam….no…”

“It’s okay Dean…my Dean.”

Dean swallowed and moved forward on the bed, closer to Sam, pressing a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “Yours…Sammy…yours…” That he remembered…Sam coming for him. Sam claiming him…leading him slowly out of the fog. 

Sam cradled the gun to his stomach, his lips seeking out Dean’s, both wet and salty. “Mine Dean? Are you still mine?” Sam whispered anxiously.

Dean breathed his answer, “Always Sammy…always…” Anything to stop this…before he hurt Sam again…before he let his own despair destroy Sam…

He kissed over Sam’s face, over tear soaked cheeks. “Want you to kiss me Sam…want you to touch me.”

Sam groaned and his grip on the gun softened. 

“Don’t want to lose you. Never again.” Dean slid to the floor, to his knees beside Sam. His lips found Sam’s, soft but insistent. The gun was pressed between them, but Sam’s hold on it was wavering.

Dean moved one hand to Sam’s face, cradling, tender. The other to the gun. “Just for now…okay…can’t touch me if you’re holding it.” 

Sam looked down at the gun and blinked. His hand dropped, awkwardly to the side, both of them watching as he slid the gun to the floor, under the bed. Dean drew him in, kissing him slowly, his hands moving to touch the bit of flesh at the bottom of Sam’s shirt. “Is it okay?” Dean murmured, kissing down to Sam’s ear. “I want you Sammy…I want it to be you…always you.”

Dean pulled back enough to take off his shirt, then pulled Sam in again, his kiss a little fiercer. Sam’s eyes fell on the J shaped scar, shaking his head and pulling away. 

_This is my mark, so everyone will know that you belong to me. So that everyone will know that you are nothing, no one, alone.”_

Dean nodded slowly, reaching for their duffle still on the bed. His hand came out with Sam’s hunting knife. “Make me yours Sam.” Dean said softly, unsheathing the blade.

Sam’s eyes were red from crying and they grew wide with some emotion Dean wasn’t sure he could name. Dean put the hilt in Sam’s hand, the point on his skin. “Mark me.”

Sam shook his head, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. “Not like this…he did it like this…before…I want…I want to do it….”

Dean could see in his eyes what he couldn’t say and got to his feet, shucking is jeans and moving to the bed. “Come here then.”

Sam was hard, Dean could see it before he even got close. He was breathing hard and he set the knife on the bed by Dean’s head. He took a minute to find a small bottle of lube in the duffle and moved between Dean’s legs…his eyes skimming up over Dean, to his face. 

“I don’t know if I…”

Dean nodded slowly. “Can…want you to.”

Sam was nearly undone, Dean could see it in his eyes…lost in the web of emotion that had taken him from desperate to take care of Dean to desperate to desperately passionate…His fingers fumbled over Dean’s skin, slick with lube as they moved into the tight space between Dean’s thighs, and Dean couldn’t help but tense as his fingers slipped inside him.

Dean shifted, tried to relax and reached for Sam. “Come on Sammy…want you.”

Sam managed to get his cock out of his jeans, his breath stuttering as he fought coming too soon. They moaned as one as Sam slid inside, his weight falling across Dean as he kissed him. “Dean…my Dean.” Sam whispered. 

Dean nodded and reached for the knife. Sam was buried inside him, not moving, legs flexed against the bed. “Mark me.” Dean whispered and Sam’s eyes opened, staring into him with a combination of lust and fear and possessiveness that was intoxicating. 

Sam pushed in a little more, taking the knife. “You sure?”

Dean’s hands grabbed his arms, just above the elbows. “Yours Sammy…always.”

He set the tip of the knife to Dean’s skin. Sam’s eyes glazed over as it bit into Dean’s skin and Dean arched up under him, hissing. “Mine.” Sam whispered, carving now, careful, delicate…changing the shape of the scar. Dean’s hands tightened on Sam’s arms as Sam pulled out ever so slightly and thrust back in, tracing the knife back through the bloody S…just a little more, a little deeper, obliterating the J that had been there.

“Mine.” Sam whispered again, his cock pulsing deep inside Dean as he came.

Dean’s hands skated up over Sam’s arms, up to his neck, pulling him down, his lips closing over Sam’s, his body arching up, his cock pressing against Sam’s stomach. “Yours Sammy.”

His own come was hot as it slicked his stomach and Dean shuddered…but before he was even breathing again, Sam was pressing the knife into his hand. “Me…Dean…Let me be yours too….can I please…Dean…Mark me…”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat but he nodded slowly and lifted the knife. “Yeah, Sammy…mine.” He kissed him once more, tightening his legs around Sam as he pressed the knife to his skin. 

“Yours Dean….always…never leaving you…never letting you go.”

Dean couldn’t answer…his ability to speak was lost. He bit his tongue in echo of the knife biting into Sam, slow strokes transforming that offending letter to a D. Blood dripped down Sam’s chest as he collapsed forward, Dean’s hand falling to the side, knocking the knife to the floor before rolling them so that they lay side by side, Sam’s cock slipping from him and Sam’s lips kissing over his face even as he whispered almost frantically…words Dean couldn’t hear or understand.

Sam’s eyes were starting to close…the emotion spent…his body following. Dean let him kiss and touch and drift slowly…until Sam’s face was nestled into his neck and shoulder, one hand cradling one of Dean’s to the fresh wound on his chest. Dean kissed his hair. “Sleep baby…I’ll be right here.”

Dean shifted them enough to get one of the blankets over them. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. His memory was full of holes…dark empty places…and yet there was memory so vivid he could feel it in his body.

It was scattered and made little sense. A shower with Sam…comforting him. Kneeling beside Sam, his head bowed. There was a flash of Sam naked and alone…bruised, being examined by… _him_ while he watched and did nothing. Then there were…the things he couldn’t tell if he was remembering or putting himself in Sam’s narrative.

It had come crashing over him in a series of waves, pulling him under, filling him with hurt…hurt he couldn’t bear until he saw what it was doing to Sam. He tugged Sam a little closer and sighed. He wouldn’t have done it. 

He nodded to himself and settled more comfortably to the mattress. It would have been giving up. Winchesters don’t give up. Especially not when it meant taking your brother with you.

 

“Dean?”

“Hmmm?”

“What do you remember?” Sam’s finger was tracing over the new wound on Dean’s chest, and Dean couldn’t bring himself to stop him. The tender skin hurt enough to keep him from drifting back to sleep.

“I’m not sure Sam. It’s disconnected. There was a werewolf in Boise two years ago. A poltergeist that threw Dad out a window. You crying in the car at Bobby’s…telling me it was the right thing.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” Dean sighed. “You mean, what made me pick up the gun.”

Sam nodded, his chin scraping lightly over Dean’s shoulder. _Knees apart, ankles crossed, hands in your lap._ “It isn’t important now.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dean smiled softly. “It isn’t your fault Sam. It’s my brain that’s decided to go all Quantum Leap on me.”

“It beats the catatonic zombie Dean.”

“Zombie?”

Sam sat up a bit and nodded. “All but the brain eating.”

Dean squinted up at his brother. “You’re not going to keep feeding me that shit, are you? Expecting me to believe you?”

Sam blushed and pressed a kiss over the red S on his chest. “We should put something on these. Keep them from getting infected.”

“Later. Right now I want to just lay here…and think about all the ways I can enjoy having you all to myself out here in the middle of nowhere.”

Sam quieted and Dean could almost see the way his thoughts turned. He rolled, turning so that Sam was on his back under him. He struggled for a minute but Dean just held his gaze. “I’m not going to hurt you Sam.” He said it softly and watched Sam still. When Sam’s eyes were clear of the panic, Dean leaned forward and pressed kisses along Sam’s collarbone.

“I have this theory.” Dean said and he saw Sam smile just a little.

“This should be interesting. Do you remember your last theory?”

Dean ignored his brother and continued chasing kisses along his neck. “Do you want to hear it?”

Sam reached up for Dean, but he swatted his hands away. “Yes, yes…I want to hear it.”

Dean pushed up so he could look at his brother. “If you really are mine, Sammy…I’m going to take my time…work my way over every inch of you…mark you with my lips and my tongue and my fingers…until there isn’t any trace of those…of them…until your body only knows my touch…until your body forgets any pain or violation…and then…you’ll do the same for me.”

Dean lowered his head again, kissing and licking a path down Sam’s belly. “Gentle and slow…because we have all the time in the world…we can be here the rest of our lives…as long as it takes.” He closed his lips over Sam’s navel and felt him squirm. “You say stop, and I’ll stop. You say no, and I’ll let go.” 

He rose up to kiss Sam’s lips once. “Okay?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah…Dean…yeah…”

 

“Someone’s going to see us Gabe.” Caleb whispered as Gabe pulled him back behind the Roadhouse. 

“Don’t care. I’ve been thinking about this for hours.” Gabe pressed Caleb up against the wall and kissed him. Caleb chuckled and settled his hands on Gabe’s waist. 

“You’re the eager one.” 

“I’m eighteen!” Gabe exclaimed. “And I’m horny.”

Caleb chuckled again and pulled Gabe closer, his lips open in offering as he leaned in for more. There was the sound of a throat clearing and Gabe jumped. Bobby’s voice came to them from around the corner.

“Your Dad’s looking for you Gabe.”

“I…uh…thanks.”

Caleb kissed his cheek. “By the way…Bobby knows.”

“You told him?” Gabe squeaked.

Caleb shook his head. “No. He’s just…observant.”

“He won’t…tell my father, will he? I mean…I want to be the one…when it’s time…and…”

“Relax. Bobby can keep a secret.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Let’s go see what your Dad wants.”

“There you are.” Allen said as Gabe came into the main room of the Roadhouse. He turned the laptop around to face Gabe. “I found four cameras in my search. John got two more.”

“You want me to make sure you didn’t miss any?”

Allen nodded. 

“Okay. Caleb, hand me my backpack. Let’s see what equipment I got left.”

“Gabe.” They looked up as John emerged from what had been Ash’s room. “You should probably start in here. Looks like maybe he expected to come back. There’s a lot of stuff in here.”

Ellen emerged from the back. “I’ve got burgers on the grill, beer on ice and Jo working the laundry room.” She put her hands on the bar and closed her eyes. “It feels good to be home. But I can’t help but feel we should be doing something…spreading the word about Ash and Andrew.”

John slipped onto a stool and covered one of her hands with his. “We have to be careful, Ellen. We don’t know who we can trust.”

“We can’t spend the rest of our lives like that.” Ellen said softly.

Gabe stopped on his way to Ash’s room. “You know…if it makes you feel safer, I can set you and Jo up with new names, new identities…the whole nine yards. Take a couple of days, but even the business stuff could be taken care of.”

Ellen smiled at him sadly. “Let me think about it, okay? This here’s been Bill’s place long as I’ve been here. Not sure it would be right changing that.” She looked at John. “Do you really think they’re coming back here? Even if they find out they didn’t kill us?”

John sighed and raised her hand to his lips. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

 

He was fragile…and he knew it. Dean had hidden the gun. Not that he’d looked for it, but Sam knew it wasn’t where he’d left it and it wasn’t under the pillows. The woods around them were quiet, only the occasional bird call…and the wind. Dean was sleeping and Sam had left the cabin to sit in the cold.

His hand slipped up to cover the bandage on his chest, covering the mark his brother had made in his flesh. 

Of course, it wasn’t alone now. There were bruises and bite marks. There was the red handprint on the inside of his left thigh. His body was covered in Dean…in his marks…in his scent.

For the first time since Robert cold-cocked him, Sam felt…safe, able to breathe…though he still teetered a bit on the edge.

“Hey.”

Sam looked up at his brother standing in the doorway, shivering in his bare skin. “Hey.”

“Made coffee.”

Sam nodded. “Coffee’s good.”

“It’s cold. Get in here.”

Sam stood and shivered as if he was just feeling the cold because Dean had said something. “We should probably eat.”

“Got oatmeal cooking.”

Sam made a face as he slipped past Dean. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Sam.” Dean growled and Sam rolled his eyes.

“It was…you brought me oatmeal…after…” And it shouldn’t be this hard now…to admit something so small. “I hadn’t been given food in four days and that’s what you brought me. I ate it in the cage with no spoon.”

Dean was close, hovering, trying to find the right words, trying to decide between comfort and playing it off…and Sam wasn’t really sure which he needed. Dean’s hand fell on Sam’s shoulder and he leaned in close. “I filled it with brown sugar and butter, just the way you always liked it.”

Sam nodded, brushing his cheek along Dean’s hand. “Sit Sammy. Coffee’s gonna get cold.” 

They had spent hours in the bed, and the room still smelled vaguely of sex and sweat, despite the wood burning in the stove and the coffee. It smelled like Dean. Like everything he loved about his brother. 

Dean grabbed the pan from the stove and dished up two bowls of thick oatmeal and made a big show of giving Sam a big spoon. 

“I remember about the ring.” Dean said, without preamble. His eyes were on his bowl when Sam looked up. “I gave it to you to remind you, so that when you felt…lost…you would know where you belonged. Dad gave it to me.” 

Dean cleared his throat. “Said Mom gave it to him…that she got down on one knee and proposed to him with that ring.” He put a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth. Sam watched the muscles in his jaw twitch as he swallowed, as he looked down away, any where but at Sam. 

“You remember what came before he gave it to you?” Sam asked softly.

He knew just from the expression that he did. Dean nodded tightly. “Not everything. Bits. I…wanted him to…punish me. I didn’t want it. Didn’t think I was good enough.”

Sam’s hand slid across the table, up over his brother’s. Dean let him hold it for a minute, then squeezed his hand and pulled away. “Everything’s all disjointed. But I think I’m starting to make sense of it.” He held his coffee up and sipped, then managed a glance in Sam’s direction. “If I tell you…will you fill in the gaps?”

Sam scowled and picked at his dish. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Dean.”

“Will you at least tell me if I’m….close?”

Sam tasted his oatmeal, decided it wasn’t bad and shoved a spoonful in his mouth before nodding.

“So, I figure, I got grabbed at some point…after you left. You found me, but I was…what? Brainwashed or something. And you and Dad tried to help me, but then you got grabbed, and we had to come after you.” 

“That’s…yeah, that’s the high view.”

“So…when I…when I showered with you…and told you…what to do…I was…helping?”

“You were saving me Dean.” Sam said softly. “I wouldn’t have made it without you. You had no business coming in there after me. You were so…broken. But you did.” Sam’s voice cracked and he had to choke back the despair. 

“Hey…hey…it’s okay Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “No it isn’t. I don’t…I didn’t deserve it…”

“What?” Dean pushed his chair back and stood. When Sam didn’t look up, Dean grabbed his chair and turned it, dropping to one knee in front of him. “You listen to me Samuel Winchester, you are…the only thing in my life worth anything. How could you not be? You saved me first.”

That only made Sam drop his head further, his chin in his chest. “No Dean. You came for me…four days I was there and you were still broken…and you came…even when M-master could have killed you.” He shook. He hadn’t called James that since right after their escape. 

“Master.” Dean said it softly, slowly. _Him_. 

“I didn’t even know, Dean…you were gone months before I even knew to start looking….before….and it took so long…and I had to…I had to do unspeakable things…”

“More unspeakable than kneeling before your own father naked and offering yourself to him?” Dean asked softly.

Sam cringed, pulled away. “Yes.” He said after a long time. “Yes Dean.”

He tried to stand up, but Dean pushed him back into his seat. “Talk to me Sammy.”

He shook his head. “I swore I’d never tell you. Never tell Dad. You…you would never forgive me….never…”

“I don’t care what you think, or what you swore Sam. I can’t help you if I don’t know. Tell me.”

Dean would hate him…”You told me I wasn’t like them…those men…but…I am…Dean. I’m just like them. I’m worse.”

Dean growled and his hand pulled Sam’s face around. “No Sammy….I don’t care what you’ve done—“

“No?” Sam looked deep into his brother’s eyes. “No? You don’t care that after a month and a half of looking I couldn’t find you…and then I went to see a friend of mine who’s psychic…she told me I needed to find the last woman you were with…and I did, Dean. I waited for her in that bar, and I seduced and drugged her. I fucked her into the ground and I hurt her until she gave me what I wanted?”

He scowled at Dean, pressing against the hand Dean had now on his shoulder. “You don’t care that I traded her confession for the next name, knowing they would kill her?” His breathing was harsh as he closed his eyes. “Or that I—“

No. He wasn’t going to say it. He could barely stand to think it.

“Sam.”

He shook his head. “No. Dean.”

“Yes Sam. Obviously keeping this is eating you up. I love you. I will still love you. I will always love you.”

Sam knew it wasn’t true. He knew Dean would think twice about that gun once he’d said it. “I hunted like I’ve never hunted before Dean. I was ruthless. I…killed…I…hunted until I hit dead end after dead end. I dealt with people that make their livings peddling human beings to demons and monsters, who keep demons as fucking pets. I –“ He couldn’t look at Dean as he said it. “I summoned a demon Dean, and I negotiated with it…I gave it what it wanted just for the _chance_ that it could get me closer.”

“You…what?”

Sam pushed the chair away and stood, his fists clenched tight at his side. “It was controlled. He had a set window of time. I was desperate Dean. I was desperate…and he knew….He was how I found the driver. The one who gave up the name of the brothel. That’s why they didn’t kill me when I got there. They service demons.”

It was clear Dean wasn’t following everything he was saying, but Sam couldn’t stop now. “Still not caring, Dean?”

“What exactly are you telling me, Sam?”

“I let it climb inside me Dean. I let it torture that driver, after I got the answer I wanted. I let it fuck him and leave him chained in a sewer to die.”

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets because he didn’t know what else to do with them. He stood with his back to Dean, because he didn’t want to see the disgust, the hate he knew had to be there.

“Is there more?” Dean asked, his voice like ice.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. There is.”

“I’m waiting.”

Sam clenched his fists. “It got me to the brothel, but before it let the madam give me what I needed it…wanted…” He could see them, hear them pleading. “I’m not like the Gorlians, Dean. I’m far, far worse. I don’t deserve to be here with you.”

Dean’s hands were on his back. Sam stiffened. “Please…Dean…”

“Tell me the rest.”

Sam sighed. He was tired now. Just finally saying this much was exhausting. He hadn’t realized how heavy it had become, buried so deep he couldn’t even acknowledge it. “When I knew…when I was sure…god, Dean. I used everything, every trick. Magic, glamours, I hurt people. I stole. I became the man that came for you.”

“Are you done?”

Sam nodded, his entire being centered on the place where Dean was touching him. “The man who came for me is the man that loved me enough to do anything he had to…the man who makes me proud to know he could love me that much.”

“You don’t mean that.” Sam said.

“No? You reading my mind Sammy?”

“Dean. Don’t. Don’t…”

“Don’t what? Don’t love you for saving me? Sorry, not happening.”

“Don’t pretend what I did wasn’t heinous.”

“Not pretending anything Sam. Not now. Not about this.” Dean turned him around, met his eyes. “I’m not saying it wasn’t a fucked up thing, Sam…and I’m not saying it doesn’t scare the shit out of me…but…but…” He ducked his head to catch Sam’s eyes after he lowered them. “What I am saying is…I can’t believe you went through that for me…that I’m not sure I could have…not sure I would have thought of it, or known how to…and I know for a fact Dad would never consider….”

“Dad…” Sam groaned. “He can’t know, Dean. He’ll…hate me…more than he must already.”

“Okay…you need to stop now. Dad doesn’t hate you.”

“He knows Dean. About us. And he knows it was me. That I…seduced you.”

Dean grinned at that. “Oh? Is that what we’re calling it?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It was my fault.”

“Okay, so Dad knows. Obviously he didn’t kill either one of us over it. So it’s all good.”

“You’re not going to let me feel bad about this, are you?”

“Not on your life Sam. I’m starting to remember bits about where I was before you came to get me. I’m not going to complain that you killed a few unsavory people to find me. I did my own killing before we came for you.”

“I know. Pastor Jim told me.”

“Pastor Jim?”

“Yeah…he tried to help.”

“Did he?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know Dean. I’m not sure what’s helping and what isn’t anymore.”

“You feeling okay now?”

Sam looked at him funny, but had to admit, he did feel better. “I guess.”

“Not gonna keep looking for the gun?”

“Dean.”

“Sam. Dean walked back to the table and picked up the dishes. “I’m just saying. What you said yesterday, goes for me too. You go, I go. Full stop.” He scraped the cold oatmeal into the trash. “And you’re cooking lunch since you ruined my oatmeal with your emo breakdown.”

 

“Hey Dad, its Sam.” Sam stood outside the coffee shop where Dean was sucking down coffee like they hadn’t had any in days. 

John sounded almost surprised to hear from him. “Everything okay, Sam?”

Sam smiled as Dean held up his latte. “Yeah, Dad. Things are starting to be really good.”

“How’s Dean?”

“He remembers new stuff everyday. He’s dealing. He’s good.”

“And you?”

“Better, Dad. Getting better everyday.”

“Dean really wants to see you, but I told him I had to check with you first.”

“We didn’t get them, Sam.”

His blood turned cold and he moved so that his back was to Dean. “Dad?”

“They dropped off the map. Three of them. Andrew, Ash and his brother. We don’t know how to find them.”

Sam nodded. “Until they want to be found, you won’t find them.”

“We just have to lay low a while.”

“No. If they want us, they’ll find us. Laying low or not.” He glanced at Dean through the window. “Our lease on the place we’re in is up in a few days. We’ll come to you.”

“I’m…staying with Ellen at the Roadhouse.”

Sam smiled at that. “I’m glad Dad. She’s a good lady.”

“Yes, Sam she is.”

“Text me an address? It might take us some time, but we’ll get there.” Sam hung up the phone and went into the coffee shop to drink his coffee and tell Dean that they were leaving the cabin. A year had passed since his father had called him in tears to tell him Dean was gone. He’d started breaking that day…and he wasn’t whole yet….but he had Dean…and together they came close.


End file.
